DIALECTS 

FOR 

ORAL  INTERPRETATION 


GERTRUDE  E.  JOHNSON 


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DIALECTS 

FOR 

ORAL    INTERPRETATION 

SELECTIONS  AND  DISCUSSION 


BY 

GERTRUDE  E.  JOHNSON 

Assistant  Professor  in  the  Department  of  Speech  in  the  University 

of  Wisconsin.     Author  of  "Modern  Literature  for  Oral 

Interpretation,"    and    "Choosing    a    Play" 


APPLETON-CENTURY-CROFTS,  INC. 
NEW  YORK 


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WHOSE    LEADERSHIP    HAS    MADE 

CONSTRUCTIVE    WORK 

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

I  WISH  to  express  my  appreciation  of  the  kind  words  as 
well  as  permissions  which  have  been  accorded  me  by 
several  authors,  and  my  thanks  to  the  editors  and  publishers 
who  have  granted  me  the  use  of  material. 

To  Bobbs-Merrill  &  Co.  for  selections  by  Wallace  Bruce  Amsbary 
taken  from  ''Ballads  of  the  Bourbonnais. " 

To  Century  Co.  for  selections  by  Joel  Chandler  Harris,  Ruth 
McEnery  Stuart,  Ellis  Parker  Butler,  Irwin  Russell,  and  Ruth  Com- 
fort Mitchell. 

To  Geo.  H.  Doran  &  Co.  for  "The  Fair"  by  Theodosia  Garrison, 
from  *'The  Dreamers  and  Other  Poems." 

To  Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.  for  two  poems  by  Paul  Laurence  Dunbar, 
taken  from  "Selected  Readings"  compiled  by  Anna  F.  Morgan. 
(All  Dunbar's  material  is  copyrighted  by  Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.) 

To  Forbes  &  Co.  for  selections  from  "Ben  King's  Verse,"  and 
from  "Old  Ace  and  Other  Poems,"  "Pickett's  Charge  and  Other 
Poems,"  by  Fred  Emerson  Brooks. 

To  Harcourt,  Brace  &  Co.  for  selections  by  T.  A.  Daly  taken 
from  "Canzoni,"  "Carmina,"  and  "McAroni  Ballads." 

To  David  McKay  Co.  for  selections  by  W.  M.  Letts. 

To  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons  for  selections  by  W.  H.  Drummond. 

To  Small,  Maynard  &  Co.  for  selections  by  F.  P.  Dunne. 

To  the  following  authors  and  owners  of  copyrights: 

To  Mrs.  Alice  Chapin  for  the  use  of  her  son's  play,  "The  Phi- 
losopher of  Butterbiggens. " 

To  Mrs.  W.  H.  Drummond  for  the  use  of  poems  by  Dr.  W.  H. 
Drummond. 

To  Bertha  N.  Graham  for  the  use  of  her  play,  "Spoiling  the 
Broth. ' ' 

To  William  F.  Kirk,  Arthur  Stringer,  and  Ruth  Comfort  Mitchell 
for  their  generous  permissions  to  use  their  work. 

vii 


viii  Acknowledgments 

To  Eidgeley  Torrence  for  permission  to  use  **The  Eider  of 
Dreams. ' ' 

To  Mrs.  Charles  Battell  Loomis  for  permission  to  use  Mr.  Loomis' 
selections. 

To  the  Editor  of  ''Country  Life"  for  the  use  of  the  poem  "The 
Twa  Weelums ' '  by  Mrs.  Violet  Jacobs. 


PREFACE 

AS  in  an  earlier  book,  ** Modern  Literature  for  Oral 
Interpretation, ' '  the  author  has  been  handicapped  in 
the  selection  of  material  for  this  book  by  refusals  and 
prohibitive  costs.  Much,  therefore,  that  should  have  been 
included  does  not  appear.  It  is  hoped,  however,  that  the 
book  as  a  whole  may  be  of  service  in  a  field  constantly  in 
need  of  material  of  every  sort.  Certainly,  there  is  need 
of  a  collection  solely  of  dialect  forms,  since  in  the  whole 
range  of  research  but  one  such  book  was  found. 

It  has  been  the  intention  in  the  discussion  to  offer  as 
concrete  suggestions  as  possible  on  matters  which  have  had 
little  direct  explanation  in  any  of  our  texts.  The  book  is 
not  meant  to  be  a  research  treatise  on  dialect,  but  a  usable 
text  and  source  of  material  in  dialect  form;  suitable  both 
for  study  for  the  sake  of  the  dialect,  and  also  to  use  as  good 
program  numbers.  Dialect  study  should  receive  more 
attention  as  a  desirable  medium  in  training  students  in 
expression  as  well  as  for  use  upon  programs. 

It  will  be  found  that  all  selections  of  what  is  sometimes 
termed  "colloquial  dialect"  (Riley,  Foss,  Field,  etc.)  have 
been  omitted;  also  all  *' child  dialect"  (Cooke,  Riley,  Field, 
etc.).  These  are  not  clearly  "dialect,"  at  least,  not  in  the 
sense  in  which  it  is  considered  in  this  book.  Such  selections 
do  not  call  for  so  complete  change  in  vocal  elements,  such 
as  pitch,  quality,  and  rhythm,  or  have  as  great  variety  in 
corresponding  bodily  changes  as  the  types  of  selections 
herein  included.  They  are,  however,  often  excellent  ma- 
terial for  interpretation,  either  as  studies  or  as  program 


X  Preface 

numbers,  and  they  are  comparatively  numerous  and  easy 
to  locate. 

In  choosing  the  selections,  those  which  include  a  great 
many  strange  or  obsolete  words  have  been  purposely 
omitted;  since  it  is  not  the  intention  that  the  selections 
should  prove  of  use  for  such  study  of  words  in  dialect. 
The  material  is  confined  for  the  most  part  to  the  attempt 
of  those  who  are  native  to  another  country  to  use  the 
English  language.  They  are  in  the  form,  not  too  difficult, 
of  *'The  foreigner  speaking  English  and  including  two 
factors,  his  own  language  and  the  language  of  his  adop- 
tion.'' 

Whereas  the  effort  has  been  made  to  make  the  selections 
fairly  inclusive  of  as  many  types  of  dialect  as  possible, 
many  have  perforce  been  omitted.  For  instance,  no 
cockney  dialect  is  included.  Kipling  has  much  that  is 
excellent  but  not  obtainable.  It  will  be  noted  that  the 
selections  are  written  entirely  in  dialect.  Complete  dialect 
being  the  only  form  desirable  for  the  aims  of  this  book,  it 
will  be  seen  at  once  that  the  selection  was  much  more 
difficult. 

The  inclusion  of  an  extensive  bibliography,  found  at  the 
end  of  the  book,  should  prove  of  great  assistance  to  teachers 
and  others  in  locating  selections  desired.  For  much  of  the 
work  of  this  bibliography,  I  am  indebted  to  Frances  Ellen 
Tucker  of  Dodgeville,  Wis.,  High  School,  Department  of 
Speech. 

Having  felt  the  need  of  some  such  compilation  as  this 
present  one  through  a  long  period  of  years,  it  is  offered 
in  the  hope  that  it  will  prove  helpful  to  a  large  number 
who  have  been  handicapped  in  the  use  of  Dialect  mainly 
because  it  has  been  so  hard  to  find. 


CONTENTS 

PART  I 
Discussion 

SEiCTTif^N'  PAGE 

I    A  General  Survey 3 

IJ    The  Meaning  and  Significance  op  Dialect    ....  11 

Til     How  TO  Study  a  Dialect 19 

.W    Advantages  in  the  Interpretative  Use  of  Dialect    .  31 

V    The  Monologue  and  Its  Interpretation 39 

PART  II 

Material  for  Interpretation 

VT    Scotch 45 

VII    Italian        75 

VIII    Negro 89 

IX    French  and  French  Canadian 125 

X     Scandinavian 145 

XI     Irish 157 

XII     Miscellaneous 203 

XIII  One-Act  Plays  in  Dialect 219 

PART  III 

Bibliography 

XIV  General  References 281 

XV    Detailed  List  of  Selections     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .  286 

Index 305 


PART  I 
DISCUSSION 

SECTION  I 
A.  GENERAL  SURVEY 


DIALECTS  FOR 
ORAL  INTERPRETATION 

SECTION  I 
A  GENERAL  SURVEY 

WHEN  one  interested  in  the  field  of  interpretation 
is  convinced  of  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from  the 
use  of  Dialect  for  the  interpreter,  both  in  vocal  and  bodily- 
reaction  and  development,  his  first  thought  is  to  survey 
the  field;  to  determine,  if  possible,  why  others  interested 
in  the  subject  have  not  investigated  its  resources.  As  a 
possible  clue  to  this  last,  it  is  necessary,  first  of  all,  to 
discover  the  sources  of  the  material. 

Setting  about  in  such  a  survey,  the  first  step  was  to 
locate  Dialect  selections,  and  for  this  purpose  volumes  of 
selected  readings  compiled  for  use  in  interpretation  were 
examined.  Out  of  a  total  of  one  hundred  books,  only  one 
was  found  that  listed  Dialect  in  its  table  of  contents,  nor 
was  there  any  mention  of  Dialect  material  in  the  indexes  or 
appendixes  of  the  other  ninety-nine.^  In  this  survey  it 
was  necessary  to  go  over  these  books  page  by  page  in  order 
to  determine  whether  or  not  Dialect  selections  were  in- 
cluded, and  if  so  what  particular  kind  of  dialect  was  rep- 
resented (Irish,  French,  Chinese,  etc.) ;  also,  the  form  in 
which  they  were  written,  whether  prose  or  poetry,  for  this 

*  A  bibliography  of  these  selections,  with  a  chart  of  detailed  find- 
ings, appears  on  pages  281-303. 

3 


4  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

was  indicated  in  the  index  in  only  one  instance.  In  the 
one  hundred  books  a  total  of  6200  selections  were  reviewed, 
430  of  which  were  Dialect.  It  should  be  noted  here  that 
more  than  half  of  the  latter,  or  215,  were  repeated  two  or 
three  times.  Of  course  there  were  some  duplications  in 
the  other  selections,  but  it  would  not  lower  the  total  more 
than  2000,  so  that  the  actual  amount  of  material  in  dialect 
form  is  in  the  proportion  of  215  to  4200.  One  volume  that 
purported  to  be  wholly  Dialect  contained  118  selections, 
50  of  which  were  usable.  The  other  68  selections  were 
either  three-  and  four-line  jokes,  or  not  real  Dialects.  It 
can  readily  be  seen  that  there  is  an  apparently  appalling 
lack  of  Dialect  material.  Furthermore,  it  is  little  wonder 
that  an  instructor  would  not  be  enthusiastic  in  the  use  of 
material  that  has  to  be  literally  dragged  from  its  hiding- 
place,  examined,  and  diagnosed.  The  use  of  Dialect  selec- 
tions, therefore,  is  likely  to  be  greatly  retarded  by  this  one 
element  alone,  the  finding  of  material. 

A  glance  over  the  Dialects  included  in  this  volume  will 
perhaps  reveal  that  the  so-called  Yankee,  Hoosier,  Child, 
and  various  other  Dialects  do  not  appear.  These,  it  seems, 
are  only  variations  within  our  own  language,  sometimes 
termed  Dialect,  it  is  true.  They  would  seem  to  be,  in  a 
truer  sense,  colloquialisms,  vernaculars,  or  provincialisms. 
Pitch,  accent,  emphasis,  even  pronunciation,  as  well  as 
certain  idiomatic  expressions,  may  differ  in  different  lo- 
calities throughout  our  country,  as  they  do  in  other  coun- 
tries as  well ;  but  this  is  only  a  matter  of  degree,  and  not 
one  of  radical  change  such  as  will  be  found  when  the 
foreigner  attempts  to  adopt  our  language. 

Mr.  E.  S.  Sheldon  has  the  following  to  say  upon  this 
point  in  his  article  *'What  Is  a  Dialect,"  found  in  the 
Dialect  Notes  of  the  American  Dialect  Society,  Vol.  1.    I 


Discussion  S 

quote  at  some  length,  as  it  may  serve  to  clarify  our  dis- 
cussion to  a  great  extent.  Mr.  Sheldon  says:  ''Language 
we  consider  primarily  as  spoken  by  the  various  individuals 
who  use  it.  No  two  individuals  use  exactly  the  same 
language.  All  language  is  constantly  changing  and  the 
gradual  changes  in  different  localities  produce  in  time,  in 
the  lack  of  conservative  or  unifying  forces,  forms  markedly 
different,  even  though  the  source  of  all  of  these  may  have 
been  the  same,  that  is,  with  only  slight  and  unnoticed 
individual  variations.  These  different  local  forms  of  speech 
we  may  provisionally  call  dialects,  but  it  is  evident  that  a 
sharp  line  between  dialects  and  language  can  only  be 
drawn  after  adopting  strict  definitions  of  both  words,  also 
that  no  slight  line  can  be  drawn  between  the  slight,  and 
for  the  most  part  unnoticed,  differences  among  individuals 
speaking  the  same  dialect  or  language  and  the  more  notice- 
able ones  which  we  call  differences  of  dialect.  Dialects, 
thus  understood,  can  not  be  assigned  in  general  to  definite 
regions  with  sharply  drawn  geographical  limits.  .  .  .*'  and 
later  he  terms  the  changes  that  occur  "Local  Dialects. '' 
The  entire  article  should  be  carefully  read  by  all  who  have 
to  teach  in  this  field. 

Matters  of  Child  Dialect  offer  another  problem,  and 
should  not  properly  be  termed  Dialect,  it  seems.  This 
speech  belongs  to  a  different  world,  the  world  of  Baby- 
land.  This  speech  can  not  be  compared  with  the  grown-up 
world,  nor  with  the  speech  of  the  foreigner  attempting 
to  accommodate  his  native  language  to  ours.  The  latter 
has  some  years  of  experience,  while  the  child  is  just  learn- 
ing. The  child's  speech  is  surely  but  a  variation  within 
our  own  forms,  and  will  have  but  little  variation  in  melodic 
rhythm  at  least.  The  melodic  rhythm  in  a  given  language, 
together  with  the  quality  conditions,  are,  it  seems,  the  final 


6  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

determining  factors  of  differentiation  for  the  interpreter. 

In  the  search  through  many  volumes  for  material,  one 
is  struck  by  the  fact  that  by  far  the  greatest  number  ot 
selections  is  in  verse  form.  Comparatively  few  writers 
have  used  Dialect  entirely  in  prose  form.  A  possible  ex- 
planation for  this  preponderance  of  the  poetic  form  might 
be  that  Dialect  is  a  medium  of  expression  for  a  distinct 
character  situation,  taken  more  frequently  than  otherwise 
from  the  lower  walks  of  life.  Poetry  idealizes,  and  many 
of  these  selections  if  written  in  prose  might  call  forth  a 
mere  crude  enjojonent  instead  of  the  appreciation  that  the 
author  desired.  Considerable  prose  in  Scotch  may  be 
found,  and  a  great  deal  in  Irish.  This  latter  Dialect  Mr. 
William  H.  Carpenter  of  Columbia  College  thinks  should 
not  come  under  the  same  sort  of  Dialect  consideration  as 
the  Dialect  of  other  foreigners  in  this  country ;  indeed,  he 
seems  not  to  consider  the  Irishman  as  a  "foreigner.'*  In 
his  article  **The  Philosophy  of  Dialect"  in  ** Modern  Lan- 
guage Notes,"  Vol.  1,  he  says: 

''The  Irishman,  whom  we  have  always  with  us,  does  not 
come  properly  into  consideration  here.  His  language  is, 
from  the  very  start,  an  English  patois  entitled  to  its 
vagaries  of  expression  by  lawful  transmission  from  a  long 
line  of  preceding  generations." 

I  encountered  by  far  the  greatest  difficulty  in  finding 
anything  like  good  Dialect,  either  in  prose  or  poetry,  in 
the  German,  and  am  not  at  all  satisfied  with  what  is  in- 
cluded. In  this  connection  I  wish  to  quote  again  from 
Mr.  Carpenter,  since  what  he  has  to  say  is  very  illuminat- 
ing in  this  connection.  In  the  same  article  referred  to 
above  he  says: 

''The  German  divides  with  the  Irishman  the  honor  of 
constituting  a  weighty  part  of  our  foreign  element — a  part 


Discussion  7 

which,  from  its  size  and  importance,  is  quite  assertive, 
and  we  are  accustomed  to  read  and  hear  frequently  that 
form  of  English  which  arises  from  the  imitation  of  a  Ger- 
man original.  To  understand  this  international  hodge- 
podge is,  in  some  parts  of  the  country,  a  linguistic  problem 
that  must  be  solved  by  every  one,  for  its  e very-day  re- 
currence is  assured.  In  spite,  however,  of  this  widespread 
familiarity  with  this  alien  pronunciation  of  English  it  is 
curious  to  observe  the  clumsiness  with  which  American 
writers  use  it.  This  is  apt  to  be  the  case  wherever  it  is 
employed,  not  only  in  the  hastily  written  'news  item,'  but 
may  also  be  discovered  in  the  last  new  novel." 

This,  at  least,  is  intei-esting  in  the  light  of  my  difficulty 
in  finding  Dialect  in  this  form. 

The  attitude  of  the  ''special  schools"  of  expression  in 
this  matter  is  worth  consideration,  since  they  occupy  an 
important  position  in  the  field  of  interpretation,  for  they 
supply  very  largely  the  teachers  in  this  field.  What  the 
<;eacher  in  training  learns  of  methods,  materials,  etc.,  she 
carries  into  her  own  work.  I  have  wondered  sometimes 
whether  these  schools  place  sufficient  emphasis  upon  the 
study  of  Dialect.  As  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  discover 
through  evidence  obtained  from  graduates  of  these  schools, 
and  I  know  it  was  the  case  in  my  own  training,  Dialect  is 
not  generally  employed  as  a  means  or  method  for  benefiting 
the  individual  in  vocal  and  bodily  reactions,  nor  is  much 
time  devoted  to  a  study  of  its  philosophy  and  possible 
advantages.  What  is  done  depends  too  much  upon  students 
who  are  "apt"  imitators,  or  upon  instructors  who  have  a 
special  "gift"  or  knowledge  of  some  particular  Dialect. 
Often,  then,  it  may  happen  that  only  one  or  two  Dialects 
are  touched  upon  in  an  entire  course,  and  Dialect  may 
come  to  be  considered  more  or  less  of  a  trick  performance, 


8  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

rather  than  a  fundamental  study  of  importance  to  any 
teacher  or  interpreter.  Surely,  if  authors  of  note  and 
authority  find  the  use  of  Dialect  fundamental  to  the  de- 
lineation of  a  character  or  situation,  we  should  give  it  some 
general  and  serious  consideration  before  we  may  hope  to 
approximate  the  author's  intention,  or  do  justice  to  the 
people  we  are  attempting  to  portray.  There  must  be  some 
basic  truths  concerning  its  value  and  use. 


SECTION  n 

THE  MEANING  AND  SIGNIFICANCE  OF 
DIALECT 


SECTION  II 
THE  MEANING  AND  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  DIALECT 

DIALECT  is  found  where  a  branch  of  the  parent 
tongue  is  radically  affected  by  the  locality,  time, 
accident,  or  revolutions.  When  an  Italian,  Chinese,  or 
Frenchman  comes  to  America,  he  comes  with  the  language 
of  his  native  soil,  but  upon  his  arrival  finds  that  it  no 
longer  serves  his  purposes  adequately.  The  removal  from 
the  fatherland  to  a  new  world  necessitates  his  changing 
the  parent  tongue  to  fit  new  needs.  Often  whole  words, 
phrases,  idioms,  etc.,  are  transferred  to  the  new  tongue. 
The  French-Canadian  will  say,  * '  I  go  to  fine  soiree. ' '  The 
first  four  words  are  distinctly  American  in  form  but  not 
in  order  to  tense,  and  this  affects  the  melodic  rhythm. 
''Soiree"  is  French  and  transferred  to  the  new  tongue. 
His  native  language  has  been  radically  affected  by  en- 
vironment and  needs,  and  the  result  is  a  Dialect,  or  mixture 
of  two  languages. 

In  this  we  find  a  possible  answer  to  the  question,  ''Why 
do  authors  use  Dialect?"  When  one  reads,  "I  go  to  fine 
soiree, ' '  one  knows  immediately  that  it  is  not  just  any  man 
talking.  As  far  as  the  dialectic  form  is  employed,  it  is 
accidental — a  means,  not  an  end  in  itself.  That  simple 
sentence  is  an  expression  of  character,  a  foreign  character. 
It  is  a  word  picture.  An  artist  would  depict  the  man  in 
his  native  costume,  posture,  coloring,  etc.,  but  your  author 

11 


12  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

breathes  very  life  into  him  through  the  medium  of  words 
Immediately  one  senses  an  element  of  the  dramatic.  Why'i 
Because,  if  one  knows  anything  at  all  about  the  French 
Canadian,  this  knowledge  forms  a  subconscious  back- 
ground. One  is  at  once  upon  the  alert,  full  of  expectancy, 
looking  for  something  to  happen.  It  need  not  be  intense 
or  swiftly  moving,  but  just  a  tinge  of  difference  will  give 
it  dramatic  flavor.  Or,  if  the  reader  knows  little  or  noth- 
ing concerning  the  French  Canadian,  the  dialectic  form 
acquaints  him  with  the  fact  that  here  is  something  different. 
A  Dialect  situation  must  have  this  dramatic  element,  or 
it  is  worth  nothing.  It  may  at  times  add  only  a  grotesque 
effect  or  color  to  a  situation,  but  it  must  be  present  in  some 
degree. 

Dialect  aids  the  reader  or  hearer  to  picture  the  character 
who  is  speaking.  It  establishes,  to  some  degree,  a  sympa- 
thetic medium  of  understanding.  It  is  much  more  satisfy. 
ing  to  have  such  a  character  speak  in  his  own  way,  setting 
forth  his  own  experiences  and  his  reactions  in  his  own 
Dialect,  than  to  have  some  one  tell  about  him  in  ordinary 
language.  The  reader  or  hearer  is  able  to  appreciate  more 
fully  the  spirit,  thought,  and  feeling  of  the  character  and 
situation.  Dialect  points  up  a  situation,  holds  the  details 
in  focus,  and  gives  a  different  mood  or  color  to  the  whole. 
Recently  play  producers  have  seen  fit  to  have  music  ap- 
propriate in  movement  and  mood  before  the  curtain  rises, 
in  order  to  establish  an  atmosphere.  That  is  what  Dialect 
does  for  fiction.  As  Doctor  Curry  ^  says,  ^'Dialect  is  a 
kind  of  literary  or  vocal  stage  make-up  that  enables  the 
reader  or  auditor  to  recognize  the  character." 

Robert  Burns  used  this  ** make-up"  for  the  speaker  in 

*'*Browning  and  the  Dramatic  Monolog/'  by  S.  S.  Cunjr 
Chap.   13. 


Discussion  13 

the  majority  of  his  poems.    They  were  in  Scottish  dialect, 
simple  and  spoken  from  his  very  heart.    To  quote  Doctor 
Curry  again,  **It  was  native  to  his  heart."     He  was  in- 
timately connected  with  the  peculiar  feelings,  experiences, 
and  reactions  of  his  people.     In  his  distinctly   Scottish 
poems  we  get  a  sense  of  the  dramatic  spirit  of  the  thought, 
while  in  those  that  are  known  as  his  English  poems  we  feel 
the  lack  of  this  element.     They  are  wanting  in  appeal; 
they  seem  weaker,  and  do  not  stir  us  as  do  his  other  poems. 
Dialect  is  the  language  of  the  heart  or  emotions,  and  we 
react  naturally  to  its  appeal.     One  of  the  heroes  of  the 
hour,  and  a  truly  great  man.  Sir  Harry  Lauder,  is  a  living 
example.    He  is  an  artist,  but  would  his  art  have  the  same 
flavor,  the  same  appeal,  if  he  sang  the  * '  Wee  Hoose  'Mang 
the  Heather"  or  ''Roamin*   in  the   Gloamin'  "  without 
that  famous  Scotch  burr.     Through  his  consummate  skill 
he  can  make  an  audience  shout  with  laughter  or  melt  with 
tears.    To  those  who  know  Scotland  he  brings  the  fragrance 
of  the  heather,  and  the  eerie  call  of  the  bag-pipe  that  tugs 
at  every  Scotchman's  heart;  to  those  who  do  not  know  his 
beloved  country,  he  brings  the  vague  feeling  of  a  wonder 
country  yet  unseen  but  greatly  loved.    Sometimes  we  must 
know  a  man's  character  in  order  to  appreciate  why  he  did 
a  certain  thing,  and  in  just  this  capacity  is  Dialect  needed 
the  better  to  suggest  the  experiences  of  a  certain  character 
situation.     This  is  the  real  meaning  and  justification  of 
Dialect. 

Vernaculars  such  as  the  Hoosier  and  Yankee  find  justi- 
fication in  this  way.  Riley  in  his  Hoosier  poems  establishes 
a  bond  of  sympathy  between  character  and  reader  through 
the  vernacular.  The  stories  of  Alice  Brown  and  Mary 
E.  W.  Freeman,  as  well  as  much  of  the  work  of  Robert 
Frost  and  Percy  Mackaye,  would  lose  appeal  and  signifi- 


14  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

cance  were  the  vernacular,  the  idioms,  and  the  colloquial- 
isms of  New  England  left  out.  They  locate  the  stories. 
Though  we  have  chosen  not  to  call  Yankee  and  Hoosier 
strictly  Dialects,  yet  we  feel  that  there  is  a  place  for  the 
vernacular  of  different  localities  as  well. 

The  spokesmen  of  another  race  have  been  found  in  Ruth 
McEnery  Stuart,  F.  Hopkinson  Smith,  Thomas  Nelson 
Page,  and  Joel  Chandler  Harris,  all  of  whom  have  dealt 
humorously  and  sympathetically  with  the  Dialect  of  the 
black  race.  Perhaps  the  best  of  these  writers,  and  one  not 
yet  mentioned,  Paul  Laurence  Dunbar,  spoke  from  a  still 
deeper  understanding  of  the  black  man,  for  he  was  the 
prophet  of  his  own  race.  Sympathetic  understanding  is 
an  element  absolutely  essential  to  Dialect.  The  author  must 
have  this,  and  identification  in  the  character  situation  to  be 
set  forth,  if  he  would  appeal  to  the  auditor  or  reader.  It 
must  appear  in  all  of  his  work,  whether  it  be  humorous, 
tragic,  pathetic,  or  tender.  This  sympathetic  understand- 
ing and  appeal  is  beautifully  portrayed  in  a  very  short 
poem  of  Dunbar X  *'A  Death  Song": 

Lay  me  down  beneaf  de  willers  in  de  grass, 

Whah  de  branch  '11  go  a-singin'  as  it  pass; 

An'  w'en  I  's  a-layin'  low, 

I  kin  hyeah  it  as  it  go 

Singin,  ' '  Sleep,  my  honey,  tek  yo '  res '  at  las '. ' ' 

Lay  me  nigh  to  whah  hit  meks  a  little  pool, 

An'  de  watah  stan's  so  quiet  lak  an'  cool, 

Whah  de  little  birds  in  spring 

list  to  come  an'  drink  an'  sing, 

An'  de  chillen  waded  on  dey  way  to  school. 

Let  me  settle  w'en  my  shouldahs  drops  dey  load 

Nigh  enough  to  hyeah  de  noises  in  de  roadj 

Fti'  I  t'ink  de  las'  long  res' 

Gwine  to  soothe  my  spurit  bes' 

Ef  I  's  layin'  'mong  de  t'ings  I  's  alius  knowed. 

There  is  one  sad  fact  concerning  Negro  Dialect,  though 
it  may  be  found  among  the  others,  but  in  this  more  espe- 


Discussion  15 

cially,  and  that  is,  that  many  pseudo-authors  who  have  no 
real  appreciation  of  the  wealth  of  beauty  and  rich  humor 
back  of  the  Dialect  use  the  Dialect  as  an  end  for  some  poor 
mock-situation,  putting  uncouth  and  untrue  expressions 
into  the  character's  mouth.  For  the  instructor  or  pupil 
of  interpretation  a  word  to  the  wise  is  sufficient :  * '  Know 
your  authors." 

Though  Doctor  Drummond  is  not  a  French-Canadian, 
his  constant  association  with  these  people  through  a  long 
period  of  years  has  given  insight  into  their  lives.  He  has 
written  several  volumes  of  monologues  in  the  French- 
Canadian  Dialect,  portraying  with  deep  and  sincere  ap- 
preciation and  sympathy  their  quaint  humor.  The  pe- 
culiar melodic  form  and  rhythmic  movement  of  their 
language  is  delightful  and  exceptionally  well  preserved. 

No  doubt  the  chief  charm  of  the  expression  of  plain 
peoples  lies  in  the  fact  that  they  can  express  themselves 
with  few  words  and  great  truth.  They  *'do  not  costume 
their  feelings  for  social  effect.'' 


SECTION  III 
HOW  TO  STUDY  A  DIALECT 


SECTION  III 
HOW  TO  STUDY  A  DIALECT 

IN  taking  up  the  study  of  Dialect  for  interpretatijn,  one 
must  necessarily  examine  the  symbols.  They  must  then 
be  analyzed  and  assimilated  for  future  reference  and  use. 
Perhaps  the  most  noticeable  differences — those  that  are 
most  apparent  to  the  hearer — are  the  variations  of  the 
melodic  rhythms  in  the  various  mother  tongues.  It  must 
be  understood  that  these  rhythms  cover  a  series  of  words 
in  a  phrase,  clause,  sentence,  and  entire  paragraphs,  as 
well  as  the  attack  on  single  vowels,  which  may  be  drawled, 
curved,  or  struck  very  quickly.  Each  melodic  rhythm, 
whether  it  is  peculiar  to  the  French,  Irish,  or  Italian, 
strikes  us  first  as  a  totality.  Examination  of  this  effect 
shows  one  that  the  causes  are  many,  such  as  variations  in 
pitch,  range,  vocal  quality,  elisions,  and  substitutions  of 
vowels  and  consonants,  and  accent  or  emphasis. 

Let  us  examine  the  first  of  these  symbols,  variations  in 
pitch  range.  In  the  Scandinavian  Dialect,  for  example, 
the  pitch  tends  to  be  comparatively  high,  and  the  inflec- 
tional modulations  and  changes  more  frequently  occurring 
from  the  established  pitch  upward.  The  voice  tends  seldom 
to  fall  below  the  established  key  or  pitch,  and  the  jumps 
are  comparatively  slow.  In  comparison,  the  Negro  Dialect 
runs  a  wide  gamut  in  pitch  range,  now  high,  now  low,  with 
frequent  and  abrupt  changes.  The  Chinese,  on  the  other 
hand,  have  a  very  high  standard  pitch  with  a  range  of  only 

19 


20  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

two  or  three  notes  above  the  original  pitch,  and  the  rate 
of  change  is  extremely  staccato  and  rapid. 

Another  symbol  that  we  may  consider  here  is  vocal 
quality,  and  this  deals  first  of  all  with  voice  placement  and 
resonance.  To  continue  with  the  Scandinavian  example, 
the  tonal  condition  is  the  result  of  head-tones.  These  need 
not  be  in  any  way  nasal,  but  have  their  resonance  very 
largely  in  the  head.  They  are  not  especially  musical,  for 
they  lack  warmth  and  richness  of  quality.  The  German 
dialect,  in  opposition,  has  guttural  tones  produced  far 
back  in  the  throat  passage.  There  is  a  certain  richness  and 
heaviness  about  them.  The  Chinese  have  a  distinctly  nasal 
twang  which,  when  combined  with  the  usual  high  pitch, 
produces  a  sometimes  distressingly  grating  sound.  The 
tones  of  the  Canadian-French  are  well  forward  in  the 
mouth,  while* the  placement  of  the  Irish  voice  fluctuates, 
now  forward  in  the  mouth  cavity,  now  back  in  the  throat 
with  many  sibilants. 

The  nasal  tone  has  a  peculiarly  flat  twang  or  quality,  and 
the  only  Dialects  that  have  this  to  a  marked  degree  are  the 
Chinese  and  the  Yiddish.  The  difference  in  the  two  as  a 
vocal  proposition  is  found  in  the  pitch ;  the  Chinese  having 
the  higher,  the  Yiddish  the  lower  pitch.  As  a  general  rule, 
the  Negro  has  a  voice  of  unusually  pure  quality.  This  is 
because  he  produces  his  tones  easily  and  fully,  the  tones 
being  unobstructed  in  the  throat  passage.  Scandinavian 
and  Cockney  Dialects  are  inclined  to  a  certain  flatness  or 
lack  of  quality,  for  they  lack  deep  resonance,  which  makes 
for  richness.  Italian  and  French-Canadian  Dialects  have 
a  light,  musical  quality — ^more  delicate  than  deeply  rich. 
It  is  the  quality  that  aids  so  much  in  portraying  feeling. 
Certain  pitch  and  tone  variations  are  peculiar  to  every 
tongue;  they  are  very  delicate  and  complicated. 


Discussion  21 

Science  is  now  experimenting  in  this  field,  but  has  done 
little,  so  far,  to  help  us.  The  interpreter  must  train  his 
ear  to  catch  these  variations  and  changes.  He  must  train 
his  mind  to  understand  them.  And  the  third  step  is  to 
train  his  vocal  mechanism  to  reproduce  them.  Let  it  here 
be  said  that  the  ideal  way  to  study  any  language,  in  Dialect 
or  otherwise,  is  to  hear  it  spoken,  since  there  are  innumer- 
able shadings  impossible  to  catch  by  any  other  means.  But 
that  we  can  do  nothing  with  Dialects  without  hearing  them 
I  do  not  agree,  for  this  will  cause  their  continued  neglect. 
I  do  not  believe  that  enough  effort  has  been  made  to  study 
Dialect  in  ways  here  suggested.  I  know  from  experience 
that  much  can  be  accomplished  thus,  even  when  ear  ob- 
servation is  not  possible.  When  started  upon  the  right 
track,  students'  interest  is  greatly  stimulated,  and  in  many 
instances  they  make  remarkable  progress.  I  find,  too,  that 
they  often  find  opportunity  to  hear  the  Dialects  "first 
hand." 

The  next  symbols  to  be  considered  are  vowel  changes  and 
elisions  and  substitutions  in  vowels  and  consonants.  There 
are  certain  vowel  sounds  in  every  language  identified  very 
largely  with  that  language  only.^  The  spelling  in  two 
languages  may  be  identical,  but  the  quality,  duration,  etc., 
may  differ  in  degree.     Because  we  can  not  make  an  in- 

*An  interesting  example  in  this  connection  is  the  Scotch  Dialect. 
It  is  very  easy  to  learn.  There  are  only  about  two  hundred  words 
to  remember,  and  another  two  hundred  that  are  the  same  as 
English  words  with  ''ie"  tacked  on,  for  example:  lad,  laddie; 
plaid,  plaidie;   lass,  lassie. 

But  the  vocabulary  gets  the  harder  as  we  get  farther  north  into 
the  highlands,  and  the  change  in  vowels  becomes  very  noticeable. 
This  conversation  took  place  between  a  buyer  and  seller  at  a  fair 
in  the  north.  ''Oo?"  '*Ay,  oo.''  *'Aw  oo?"  '*Ay,  aw  oo.'» 
"Aw  a  00?"  ''Ay,  aw  a  oo." 

The  translation  is:  ''Wool?"  <'Yes,  wool."  "All  wool?*' 
"Yes,  all  wool."     "All  one  wool?"     "Yes,  all  one  wool." 


22  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

tensive  study  of  the  original  sounds  of  foreign  tongues, 
authors,  in  writing  the  Dialect,  endeavor  to  spell  the  words 
according  to  the  sound;  but  it  is  almost  impossible  of  re- 
production in  writing,  as  authors  are  well  aware.  To 
approximate  it  to  some  degree  requires  great  understand- 
ing, taste,  and  skill. 

In  his  book  of  ''Irish  Poems"  ^  Arthur  Stringer  writes: 

**I  have  again  and  again,  in  the  matter  of  the  written 
word,  been  coerced  into  something  not  unlike  a  sacrifice  of 
actuality  on  the  altar  of  literary  convention.  .  .  .  There 
are  tricks  of  speech  so  characteristic  and  so  persistent 
that  they  can  not  be  ignored.  One,  for  instance,  is  the 
flattening  of  the  dental  digraph  ''th"  into  something  ap- 
proaching a  "  d. "  To  write  it  down  always  as  a  '  *  d  "  is  a 
somewhat  clumsy  artifice.  .  .  .  Still  another  practice  is 
the  lowering  and  * '  de-dentalating "  of  the  sibilant,  readily 
recognized  in  the  "smile"  which  becomes  *'shmile"  and 
the  ''street"  which  must  be  recorded  as  "shtreet,"  though 
here  again  the  inserted  "h"  is  a  somewhat  awkward  in- 
strument to  denote  that  tenuous  rustle  of  breath  with 
which  Erin  wafts  out  its  hissing  consonants.  .  .  .  And 
beyond  this  there  are  many  more  difficulties,  difficulties  of 
idiom,  and  of  mental  attitude.  And  as  an  excuse  for  a 
newcomer's  invasion  of  that  land  of  brogues  and  accents 
and  intonations,  which  are  as  elusive  as  quicksilver  even 
while  they  are  as  penetrating  as  turf -smoke  and  as  soft  as 
a  bog-land  breeze,  I  can  only  add  that  it  is  a  field  in  which 
there  are  many  anomalies  and  no  finalities." 

It  must  be  remembered  here  that  Dialect  is  accidental — a 
means,  not  an  end. 

Dialect  must  suggest  the  dramatic  spirit,  and  be  neces- 
sary to  the  situation  in  amplifying  a  character  or  in  giving 

*  Arthur  Stringer,  ''Irish  Poems,"  Foreword. 


Discussion  23 

a  unique  point  of  view  or  experience.  The  chief  element  of 
Dialect  is  not  in  the  spelling  of  the  words,  but  in  the 
melody  of  the  sentences.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  individual 
words,  but  of  the  entire  feeling,  spirit,  and  thought.  At 
best,  Dialect  can  be  suggested  only  vaguely. 

In  the  matter  of  elisions,  let  us  look  for  a  moment  at  a 
bit  of  Negro  Dialect: 

**I'nin'  up  de  whi*  folks'  close.'' 

The  '*ro"  and  the  final  **g"  have  been  dropped  from  the 
word  **ironing"  and  the  "te"  from  ''white";  ''d"  is 
substituted  for  "th"  and  *'th"  is  ignored  in  ''clothes"; 
so  that,  when  read  in  the  dialect  form,  the  words  of  the 
sentence  run  together.  In  this  case  Dialect  is  a  blending 
of  sounds.  No  one  word  would  stand  out  clear-cut  from 
the  others.  The  Negro  Dialect  has,  perhaps,  more  elisions 
than  any  other,  though  some  are  found  in  the  Italian, 
German,  French-Canadian,  etc.  Dropping  of  the  "u" 
from  "you"  and  the  "d"  from  "and"  occurs  regularly 
in  the  Negro  Dialect. 

Substitution  of  vowels  and  consonants  is  very  common 
in  all  Dialect  forms.  In  German  Dialect  selections  we 
continually  find  "I  vas,"  the  substitution  of  "v"  for  "w" 
in  "was."^  In  other  Dialects,  as  well,  there  are  the 
substicutions  of  "e"  for  "d,"  as  "ole"  for  "old";  "y" 
for  "j"  in  "just";  "u"  for  "a"  in  "and."    The  Chinese 

*  Of  interest  in  this  connection  are  some  of  the  results  in  a  recent 
research  upon  errors  in  given  English  sounds,  made  as  a  thesis 
study  in  the  Department  of  Education  in  the  University  of  Wis- 
consin. Seventeen  races  represented  in  the  United  States  were 
tested,  the  smallest  number  in  any  one  being  twenty-five,  the 
largest  ninety.  The  voiceless  '*th"  was  found  to  be  the  most  diffi- 
cult sound  for  all  and  the  sonant  "th"  rated  next  in  difficulty, 
while  the  next  two  in  order  were  "  v  "  and  ' '  wh. ' '  (See  bibliography 
for  reference.^ 


24  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretatian 

constantly  substitute  **1"  for  ''r"  and  *'r"  for  **1." 
''Every"  reads  ''evly."  So,  there  are  numerous  elisions 
and  substitutions,  only  a  few  of  which  are  mentioned  here. 
This  can  not  be  an  exhaustive  discussion  of  the  subject; 
the  purpose  is  to  indicate  what  the  interpreter  is  to  look 
for.  Should  such  a  discussion  go  into  meticulous  detail, 
the  interpreter  would  become  discouraged  because  of  the 
great  mass  of  material.  Then,  too,  if  the  Dialect  is  to  be 
truly  assimilated,  the  interpreter,  or  teacher  of  interpreta- 
tion, must  necessarily  discover  some  of  the  facts  for  him- 
self. The  substitutions  and  elisions  discussed  are  merely 
suggestive  guides  in  the  right  direction. 

The  next  aid  is  in  the  matter  of  accent  and  emphasis. 
This  has  to  do  first  of  all  with  the  words  themselves,  that 
is,  syllabic  accent — whether  or  not  the  accent  falls  on  the 
first,  second,  or  third  accent  of  a  three-syllable  word. 
Secondly,  it  deals  with  the  stress  or  accentuation  of  special 
words  in  the  phrases  and  clauses.  Many  times  the  ac- 
centuation of  another  syllable  than  the  usual  one  in  a 
single  word  causes  the  accenting  of  a  phrase  or  group  of 
words  to  be  changed.  The  American  asks,  '' Chris' to-pher 
Co-lum'bus?"  and  his  Italian  brother  answers,  "Chris- 
toph'  Co-lumb'!"  (The  words  have  been  divided  here 
into  syllables  in  order  to  show  where  the  accent  falls.) 
The  elisions  in  the  latter,  combined  with  the  differences  in 
accentuation,  produces  a  startlingly  different  result.  So 
much,  for  the  moment,  for  that  Dialect.  Let  us  consider 
briefly  the  attack  the  Frenchman  makes  upon  accent. 

The  Frenchman  tends  to  articulate  each  syllable  of  a 
word  very  precisely  and  delicately,  with  no  special  accent 
upon  a  given  syllable.  The  result  is  that  he  seems  to 
talk  faster,  because  he  does  not  pause  upon  some  syllable. 
This  vitally  affects  the  rhythm.     The  regularity  or  ir- 


Discussion  25 

regularity  of  accent  occurrences,  pause  between  syllables 
or  words,  and  the  prominence  given  certain  words  or  word 
groups,  makes  for  variations  in  rhythm.  The  rhythm  is 
a  totality  of  effect — and  timing  has  much  to  do  with  it. 
Could  the  Dialect  speech  of  the  Italian  be  considered  as  a 
musical  score,  the  tempo  or  time  would  be  allegro,  or 
''quickly."  The  Scandinavian  would  be  talking  in 
andante,  or  slowly  moving,  even  time.  Cockney  Dialect 
is  allegretto — faster  than  andante  but  slower  than  allegro. 
The  Irish  Dialect  is  now  in  andante,  now  allegro,  the  latter 
predominating.  "We  all  are  acquainted  with  the  famous 
nursery  rhyme  ** Mary's  Lamb."  Let  us  look  at  it  a 
moment  rendered  in  four  different  Dialects — Chinese, 
German,  French,  and  Irish: 


Was  gal  name  Moll  had  lamb, 
Flea'  all  samee  white  snow; 
Evly  place  Moll  gal  walkee 
Ba-ba  hoppee   'long  too. 


Dot  Mary  haf  got  ein  leedle  schaf 
Mit  hair  yust  like  some  vool; 
Und  all  der  place  dot  gal  did  vent 
Das  schaf  go  like  some  fool. 

Ill 

La  petite  Marie  had  le  jeune  muttong, 
Ze  wool  was  blanche  as  ze  snow; 
And  everywhere  la  Belle  Marie  went 
Le  jeune  muttong  was  zure  to  go. 

IV 

Begorry,  Mary  had  a  little  shape, 

And  the  wool  was  white  entoirely. 

An'  wherever  Mary  wad  sthir  her  sthumps 

The  young  shape  would  follow  her  completely. 


26  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Read  these  aloud,  and  listen  for  the  rhythmic  differences. 

No  doubt  you  have  often  heard  the  comedienne  on  the 
vaudeville  stage  render  **In  the  Shade  of  the  Old  Apple 
Tree"  as  the  Italian,  the  German,  and  the  Chinese  would 
play  it  upon  the  piano.  The  Italian  rendition  was  brilliant 
and  marked  by  a  certain  uneven  tempo.  The  German  was 
slow  and  ponderous,  with  many  crashing  chords  emphasiz- 
ing the  guttural,  low-pitched  voice,  with  its  slow  rhythm. 
In  contrast,  the  Chinese  piece  was  played  on  the  upper 
three  octaves  of  the  keyboard,  and  was  very  staccato  and 
fast,  with  peculiarly  jarring  notes.  With  the  pianist  it 
was,  again,  a  matter  of  pitch,  accent,  and  rhythms. 

These,  then,  are  some  of  the  principal  elements  that  go 
to  make  up  a  Dialect:  variation  in  pitch  range  and  the 
rapidity  with  which  may  occur  changes  in  vowels,  elisions 
and  substitutions  of  vowels  and  consonants,  and  accent  and 
emphasis.  Together  they  produce  melodic  rhythms  pe- 
culiar to  each  tongue,  as  a  harmonious  and  unified  whole. 
It  is  necessary  to  examine  each  phase  or  symbol  separately 
if  we  would  understand  the  Dialect;  and  these  are  means 
of  understanding  fundamental  to  any  Dialect,  but  not  ends 
in  themselves. 

One  of  the  greatest  faults  of  rendering  is  due  to  imita- 
tion and  mastery  of  externals,  rather  than  primarily  a 
deep  understanding.  Dialect  must  always  be  the  result 
of  assimilation.  It  is  true  that  this  may  come  through 
imitation  to  a  degree,  but  it  is  an  imitation  that  has  as  its 
basis  a  sympathetic  and  sincere  understanding  and  appre- 
ciation. It  is  not  parrot-like  repetition.  In  the  poetic  or 
prose  selections  the  author  gives  only  certain  words 
Dialect  spelling,  and  these  are  the  words  that  the  pseudo- 
interpreter  delights  in  stressing.  The  fact  of  the  matter 
is  that  all  of  the  words  have  a  subtle  difference  in  pro- 


Discussion  27 

nunciation,  whether  they  are  spelled  differently  or  not. 
When  we  hear  an  educated  Frenchman  speak,  we  notice 
that  he  has  a  comparatively  fine  mastery  of  the  English 
language ;  but  at  the  same  time  there  is  an  almost  intangible 
and  delightful  difference  about  his  speech,  unlike  our  own. 
We  call  it  accent — we  might  say  there  is  a  delicate  aroma 
about  the  words. 

In  Dialect  this  accent  is  stronger — more  apparent.  There 
is  a  difference  about  all  of  the  words,  more  marked  in  some 
instances;  and  the  greatest  difference  of  all  lies  in  the 
peculiar  melodic  rhythms,  individual  to  each  tongue.  This 
comes,  as  we  have  seen,  through  modulations  of  the  voice 
in  pitch,  inflections,  pause,  stress,  quality,  resonance,  etc. 
These  are,  of  course,  bound  up  with  technique  when  it 
comes  to  reproduction;  but  underlying  all  is  a  dramatic 
feeling  for  the  material,  which  can  not  be  a  veneer,  but 
must  come  from  a  deep  and  sympathetic  appreciation  and 
understanding  on  the  part  of  the  interpreter.  The  inter- 
preter, like  the  author,  must  speak  in  the  words  of  the 
heart.  Doctor  Henry  Van  Dyke  says:  **A  character  is 
but  a  puppet  strung  on  wires,  unless  you  know  him  for  a 
man.'*  These  foreigners  who  speak  to  us  in  Dialect  must 
be  understood  by  the  interpreter  if  he  would  make  the 
right  appeal  to  his  audience  and  gain  the  best  results  from 
the  material.  To  quote  further  from  Doctor  Van  Dyke  in 
his  tales  of  the  French-Canadian,  he  says, 

Take  the  least  of  all  mankind,  as  I; 
Look  at  his  head  and  heart,  find  how  and  why 
He  differs  from  his  fellows  utterly. 


SECTION  IV 

ADVANTAGES  IN  THE  INTERPRETATIVE 
USE  OF  DIALECT 


SECTION  IV 

ADVANTAGES  IN  THE  INTERPRETATIVE 
USE  OF  DIALECT 

THE  student  of  Dialect  who  comes  to  it  with  an  appre- 
ciation of  its  use  and  what  it  stands  for  may  expect 
to  benefit  materially  from  its  study.  In  the  first  place,  it 
is  an  excellent  vocal  practice.  No  matter  how  lovely  a 
voice  may  be,  it  can  and  should  be  improved ;  for  if  it  has 
reached  perfection  there  is  no  growth,  and  that  means  loss 
of  power.  The  mere  attempts  at  approximating  different 
pitches,  melodies,  and  accents  found  in  the  various  Dialects 
will  prove  very  helpful  merely  as  vocal  exercises.  In  the 
different  Dialects,  the  acquiring  of  skill  in  technique,  which 
is  based  on  fundamental  understanding,  implies  that  much 
may  be  accomplished.  What  the  interpreter  must  work 
for  is  increase  in  capacity  to  do. 

Take  some  one  whose  voice  is  high-pitched  and  rather 
inflexible.  That  person  can  never  hope  to  remedy  the 
defect  until  he  trains  his  ear  to  catch  the  difference  in 
voice  pitches  and  variations  in  pitch.  A  too  abrupt  attack 
upon  the  fault  ruins  any  good  result  that  may  be  hoped 
for;  but  a  gradual  approach  through  the  study  of  Dialect 
material  will  aid  greatly  in  accomplishing  the  desired  end. 
The  interpreter  unconsciously  studies  his  own  voice  in 
comparison,  discovers  his  limitation,  and  the  readjustment 
comes  about  easily  and  naturally. 

31 


S2  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Increase  in  pitch  range,  and  the  agility  acquired  in 
vocal  adjustment  when  trying  Irish,  Scandinavian, 
French,  Scotch,  and  Italian  Dialects  in  succession,  help 
vocal  modulation  and  inflectional  control.  Vocal  quality 
may  be  improved  through  the  understanding  and  use  of 
the  qualities  peculiar  to  each  Dialect.  Thus  the  melody  of 
the  voice  becomes  enriched.  More  feeling,  and  conse- 
quently more  appeal,  is  added.  But  perhaps  the  greatest 
benefit  of  all  comes  in  the  improvement  of  native  melodic 
rhythm. 

Every  one  has  a  rhythm,  again,  peculiar  to  the  indi- 
vidual, but  colored  by  the  race  or  nationality.  For  the 
person  who  habitually  rushes  through  his  sentences  in  mad 
haste,  with  abrupt  pauses,  let  him  try  the  bland  Scandi- 
navian Dialect  or  a  crooning  Negro  lullaby.  Both  are  slow 
in  tempo,  even  in  rhythm.  The  fundamental  understand- 
ing and  control  required  to  obtain  desired  results  in  ren- 
dering such  sjelections  should  aid  him  greatly.  This 
method,  of  course,  may  not  cure  his  fault,  but  it  will  tend 
to  have  a  slowing  effect  upon  his  habitual  rhythm.  It  will 
increase  his  capacity  to  the  extent  that  he  will  be  capable 
of  doing  that  which  is  diametrically  opposite  to  what  he 
has  always  done.  Take  the  reverse  case,  that  of  the  person 
who  has  a  slow,  even-moving  rhythm.  Try  him  out  on 
French-Canadian,  Italian,  and  Chinese  dialects.  It  will 
tend  to  put  life  and  verve  into  his  work. 

These  are  the  problems  that  the  interpreter  and  teacher 
of  interpretation  must  always  meet,  and  there  is  not  always 
such  a  workable  remedy  at  hand.  This  study  is  not 
remedial  primarily;  it  is  helpful  and  cultural.  We  can 
not  hope  literally  to  change  a  thing  so  deeply  rooted  as 
melodic  rhythm,  but  we  can  hope  to  better  and  improve  it 
through   enlarging   our   capacity   to   appreciate    and   use 


Discussion  33 

rhythms  other  than  our  own.  Strangely,  through  use  of 
Dialect  material,  the  tendency  toward  change  goes  farther : 
it  affects  more  than  the  vocal  rhythms — it  affects  the  entire 
bodily  response. 

The  interpreter  can  not  help  but  feel  a  sympathy  toward 
Dialect  material.  It  is  that  sympathy  which  sets  off,  as  it 
were,  the  whole  nervous  reaction.  There  is  certainly  a 
human  appeal  there  to  which  he  will  respond  in  feeling. 
If  he  is  slow  in  physical  response  ordinarily,  have  him  do 
French  and  Italian.  The  doing — to  hear  his  own  voice- 
will  tend  to  quicken  his  bodily  rhythms.  If  he  is  ordi 
narily  staccato  in  response,  contact  with  sad  Irish  or  bland 
Scandinavian  will  tend  to  smooth  out  his  reactions,  making 
them  a  more  sustained  totality.  This  holds  true  again  in 
acting,  perhaps  in  a  greater  degree,  though  this  is  ques- 
tionable ;  and  we  must  first  interpret  before  we  can  act. 

At  this  moment  there  comes  to  mind  a  very  recent  case 
of  a  young  woman  who  had  staccato  response  and  rather 
tense,  jerky  rhythms.  She  was  known  in  amateur  circles 
for  acting  in  comedy  roles.  There  was  always  the  same 
quick,  sure,  but  somewhat  jerky  attack.  The  result  was 
the  same — the  rhythmic  result  as  a  whole — vocally  and 
bodily.  Her  instructor  knew  that  the  pupil's  power  could 
never  be  increased  until  she  had  increased  her  capacity  to 
use  other  rhythms  truly.  So  the  young  woman  was  cast 
in  an  Irish  Dialect  play,  in  the  character  of  a  woman  of 
some  seventy  years,  a  tragic,  strongly  emotional  figure,  in 
a  situation  deeply  sad.  The  result  was  astonishing.  Those 
who  knew  her  best  scarcely  recognized  the  student  in  the 
deeply  pulsing  rhythms  of  her  voice,  the  sustained  totality 
of  bodily  response.  And  all  this  with  ease.  She  had  ac- 
complished what  she  had  set  out  to  do — completely  to 
approximate  an  entirely  different  result  in  vocal  and  bodily 


S4f  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

rhythms.  Will  such  achievement  have  no  effect  upon  her 
future  work? 

This  is  by  no  means  an  isolated  example.  It  has  been 
my  not  infrequent  experience  that  students  whose  lack  of 
rhythmic  response  or  setness  of  rhythm  has  been  almost 
impossible  truly  to  stir  or  affect  have  responded  in  the 
use  of  Dialect  material  in  a  remarkable  way,  and  this  when 
the  presumable  difficulties  of  Dialect  have  at  first  sight 
staggered  them. 

Some  in  authority  decry  the  use  of  Dialect.  They  de- 
clare that  Dialects  ruin  the  American  language;  the  idea 
is  to  get  rid  of  them.  What  they  are  really  decrying  are 
colloquialisms,  vernaculars,  and  native  carelessness.  I 
should  dislike  to  see  the  use  of  Dialect  discouraged  for 
any  such  reason.  My  testimony  would,  indeed,  all  be  upon 
the  opposite  side.  I  have  been  interested  to  note  that 
students  beginning  the  study  of  Dialects  invariably  take 
much  more  pains  to  pronounce  and  enunciate  in  this  new 
form  than  they  sometimes  did  in  their  own  language.  They 
are  quick  to  see  this  somewhat  humorously,  when  their 
attention  is  called  to  it.  I  find  that  their  ears  more  quickly 
catch  slovenliness  in  our  speech  after  some  little  use  of 
Dialects,  and  in  not  a  few  cases  their  native  speech  has 
been  definitely  improved.  I  am,  of  course,  considering 
the  study  of  groups  working  for  expressive  speech  pur- 
poses, not  groups  of  foreigners  or  younger  pupils.  There 
is  little  danger  in  the  interpretative  study  and  use  of 
Dialects,  for  we  learn  to  appreciate  their  value  and  sig- 
nificance, and  there  is  little  danger  of  falling  into  the 
grievous  fault  of  their  usage.  Know  your  Dialects  and 
they  will  increase  your  power. 

When  the  interpreter  makes  a  careful  study  and  use  of 
Dialect  material,  he  has  at  his  command  the  most  complete 


Discussion  35 

means  for  the  development  of  interpreting  and  imperso- 
nating powers  within  the  scope  of  individual  expression 
and  presentation.  Apparently  it  is  a  form  that  has  been 
ignored  and  greatly  discounted,  when  its  worth  as  a 
medium  of  training  should  be  recognized  and  enhanced. 


SECTION  V 

THE  MONOLOGUE  AND  ITS 
INTERPRETATION 


SECTION  V 

THE  MONOLOGUE  AND  ITS 
INTERPRETATION 

SINCE  virtually  all  the  selections  in  this  book  are  in 
monologue  form,  a  form  especially  helpful  to  dramatic 
students  in  the  overcoming  of  mechanical  tendencies  in 
presentation,  and  offering  a  wide  choice  of  material,  some 
discussion  of  this  type  of  material  will  not  be  amiss  in 
conclusion, 

A  variety  of  meanings  are  given  the  word  ''monologue*': 
**A  speech  or  soliloquy  spoken  by  a  character  in  a  story  or 
play."  Several  of  Browning's  best  monologues  are  titled 
soliloquies,  as  "Soliloquy  in  the  Spanish  Cloister. '*  "A 
performance  by  one  person  of  any  one  scene  or  selection 
from  a  play  in  which  the  performer  assumes  one  or  more 
characters.''  *'A  'variety  sketch'  or  a  confused  collection 
of  amusing  sayings."     (Vaudeville.) 

The  monologue  is  one  end  of  a  conversation,  and  pre- 
supposes a  listener  or  listeners  in  a  definitely  conceived 
dramatic  situation.  It  reports  a  complete  story  or  revela- 
tion of  events,  showing  at  its  best  the  subjective  workings 
of  the  character  speaking,  together  with  such  reactions  as 
are  caused  by  the  presence  of  other  characters.  It  is 
always  vivid,  intense,  and  personal. 

There  is  probably  no  form  of  writing,  the  play  not  ex- 
cepted, that  furnishes  the  interpreter  so  complete  a  medium 
of  expression  as  the  monologue.    In  the  presentation  of  a 


40  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

play  by  one  person,  if  presented  impersonatively,  no  matter 
how  skilful  or  inspired  the  performer,  the  very  necessity 
of  dropping  and  assuming  the  physical  attitudes  and 
actions  of  the  various  characters  tends  to  lessen  the  vivid- 
ness of  the  various  impersonations,  and  destroys,  to  an 
extent,  the  unity  of  the  presentation.  In  the  monologue 
all  the  possibilities  of  the  play  are  present,  and  on  the 
side  of  conception  and  imagination  many  more.  The  in- 
terpreter has  at  his  command  a  means  of  revelation  at  once 
intense,  imaginative,  subtle,  and  interesting.  Through  him 
the  audience  sees  the  effect  of  circumstances  and  events 
focused  upon  a  single  character  whose  complete  reactions 
may  be  revealed.  They  are  able  to  catch,  in  half-lights  as 
it  were,  the  look  and  sound  of  other  characters,  and  to 
gather  in  many  instances  a  very  definite  idea  of  characters 
that  never  speak:  for  instance,  the  Duchess  in  ''My  Last 
Duchess. ' ' 

This  form  of  expression  demands  that  all  the  skill  and 
all  the  powers  of  the  interpreter  be  brought  into  full  play. 
It  is  more  subjective,  more  intense,  and  more  suggestive 
than  the  play.  Its  rendition  is  far  more  difficult  than  any 
reading  or  recitation,  for  it  has  to  be  lived  and  acted 
precisely  as  does  the  play.  The  conversation  does  not  con- 
sist of  abstractions,  but  takes  place  in  a  definite  situation, 
and  reveals  the  experience,  past  or  present,  of  a  human 
soul.  It  becomes,  as  we  have  said,  in  every  case  intensely 
personal. 

The  elder  Coquelin,  who  was  a  great  monologist  as  well 
as  great  actor,  once  said :  '  *  The  more  utterly  the  reciter  is 
forgotten  while  he  speaks,  the  better  he  is  remembered, 
and  the  longer,  after  he  is  silent."  The  monologue  offers 
this  possibility  of  absorption,  for  it  is  the  business  of  the 
interpreter  of  the  monologue  to  focus  attention  entirely 


Discussion  41 

upon  the  character  speaking  and  the  story  revealed.  Euth 
Draper,  so  skilled  an  interpreter  in  this  particular  type 
of  presentation,  furnishes  a  striking  example  of  how  com- 
pletely and  artistically  this  end  may  be  achieved. 

Speaking  of  the  rendering  of  monologues,  we  have  as 
great  a  variety  in  the  manner  of  presentation  in  this  form 
of  writing  alone,  I  think,  as  in  all  the  other  forms  put  to- 
gether. We  have  presenting  in  costume  and  out,  with  some 
''properties"  and  with  none,  with  ** settings"  and  without. 
We  have  monologues  varying  all  the  way  from  the  noble 
and  inspired  utterances  of  some  of  Browning's  finest 
poems,  together  with  his  intensely  emotional  and  dramatic 
selections,  on  through  all  shades  and  kinds  of  emotion  to 
the  wildest  burlesque,  and  revelations  of  idiosyncrasy, 
weakness,  or  inane  situation.  Apparently  writers  find  it 
a  convenient  form  of  expression,  and  certainly  there  should 
be  a  wide  choice  for  public  presentation. 

In  general,  the  reader  is  apt  to  err  upon  the  side  of  too 
much  *'show."  The  presentation  becomes  stagy,  declama- 
tory, theatrical,  and  spectacular.  The  inclusion  of  ''prop- 
erties," often  unwisely  considered,  mars  the  unity  of  the 
performance.  Dr.  Curry  says  of  this:  "The  use  of  prop- 
erties should  be  governed  by  the  laws  of  significance, 
centrality,  and  consistency."  Since  properties  are  sure  to 
appeal  to  the  eye,  it  is  evident  that  extreme  care  should 
be  taken  in  their  introduction.  Dr.  Curry  says  further: 
"Whenever  any  article  of  dress  is  a  necessary  part  of  the 
character  and  has  an  inherent  relation  to  the  story  or  the 
thought,  when  it  becomes  an  essential  part  of  the  expres- 
sion, then  it  may  properly  be  employed. ' ' 

In  all  monologues  points  concerning  the  "speaker,"  the 
"hearer,"  the  "place,"  and  the  "situation"  should  be 
carefully  considered.     Should  the  scene  be  "on  stage"  in 


42  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

part  or  completely  ?  Does  the  audience  become  the  *  'hearer" 
in  some  instances?  Should  the  ** speaker'*  in  a  monologue 
ever  address  the  audience  directly,  and  if  so  when?  Are 
some  monologues  much  more  capable  of  full  impersonation 
than  others,  and  are  there  not  many  selections  that  might 
not  be  usually  thought  of  as  monologues  which  would  bene- 
fit in  interpretation  by  being  so  considered?  Certainly 
many  of  Browning's  ** lyrics"  gain  in  significance  and  are 
much  more  easily  understood  if  so  considered.  These  and 
other  questions  should  be  answered  by  a  careful  analysis 
of  the  material  of  each  selection.  Such  clarification  would 
tend  in  every  instance  to  add  to  the  student's  knowledge 
and  develop  his  powers  for  interpretation  in  the  monologue 
form. 

The  selections  in  this  book,  then,  being  so  largely  mono- 
logues, should  be  studied  in  the  light  of  the  suggestions 
here  given.  Being  Dialect  as  well  as  monologue,  they  have, 
I  believe,  an  even  greater  value  for  the  developmental 
practice  of  every  student  in  expression. 


PAET  II 
MATEEIAL  FOR  INTERPEETATION 

SECTION  VI 
SCOTCH 


SECTION  VI 
SCOTCH 

(See  also  *'Modem  Literature  for  Oral  Interpretation,*' 
Johnson,  page  264,  prose.) 

SHE  LIKED  HIM  RALE  WELL 

The  Spring  had  brought  out  the  green  leaf  on  the  trees, 
'  An'  the  flowers  were  unfolding  their  sweets  tae  the  bees, 
When  Jock  says  tae  Jenny,  *  *  Come,  Jenny,  agree, 
An'  say  the  bit  word  that  ye '11  marry  me." 
She  held  doon  her  heid  like  a  lily  sae  meek. 
An'  the  blush  o'  the  rose  flew  awa'  frae  her  cheek. 

But  she  said,  '*Gang  awa',  man! 

Your  heid's  in  a  creel." 
She  didna  let  on  that  she  liked  him  rale  weel — 

Oh !  she  liked  him  rale  weel — 

Aye,  she  liked  him  rale  weel ! 
But  she  didna  let  on  that  she  liked  him  rale  weel. 

Then  Jock  says,  **0h,  Jenny,  for  a  twalmonth  an'  mair, 
Ye  ha'e  kept  me  just  hangin'  'twixt  hope  an'  despair. 
But,  oh !  Jenny,  last  night  something  whispered  tae  me 
That  I'd  better  lie  doon  at  the  dyke-side  an'  dee." 
Tae  keep  Jock  in  life,  she  gave  in  tae  be  tied ; 
An '  soon  they  were  booked,  an '  three  times  they  were  cried. 

45 


46  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Love  danced  in  Jock's  heart,  an'  hope  joined  the  reel — 
He  was  sure  that  his  Jenny  did  like  him  rale  weel — 

Oh !  she  liked  him  rale  weel ! 

Aye,  she  liked  him  rale  weel! 
But  she  never  let  on  that  she  liked  him  rale  weel. 

When  the  wedding  day  cam',  tae  the  manse  they  did  stap, 
An'  there  they  got  welcome  frae  Mr.  Dunlap, 
Wha  chained  them  to  love's  matrimonial  stake, 
Syne  they  took  a  dram  an'  a  mouthfu'  o'  cake. 
Then  the  minister  said,  ' '  Jock,  be  kind  tae  your  Jenny, 
Nae  langer  she 's  tied  to  the  string  o '  her  minnie ; 
Noo,  Jenny,  will  ye  aye  be  couthie  an'  leal?" 
**Yes,  sir;  oh,  yes,  for  I  like  him  rale  weel!" 

Aye,  she  liked  him  rale  weel ! 

Oh!  she  liked  him  rale  weel! 
At  last  she  owned  up  that  she  liked  him  rale  weel ! 

Andrew  Wattless 

THE  TWA  WEELUMS 

I'm  Sairgint  Weelum  Henderson  frae  Pairth, 

That 's  wha  I  am ! 

There's  just  ae  regimint  in  a'  the  airth 

That's  worth  a  damn; 

An'  gin  the  bonniest  fechter  o'  the  lot 

Ye  seek  to  see. 

Him  that 's  the  best — whaur  ilka  man's  a  8cat-~ 

Speir  you  at  me ! 

Gin  there's  a  hash  o'  Gairmans  pitten  oot 
By  aichts  an'  tens, 

That  Wully  Henderson's  been  thereaboot 
A 'body  kens; 


Material  for  Interpretation  47 

Fegs-aye!    Yon  Weelum  that's  in  Gairmanie, 
He  hadna'  reckoned 

Wi'  Sairgint  Weelum  Henderson  an'  wi' 
The  Forty-Second! 

Yon  day  we  lichtit  on  the  shores  o'  France, 

The  lassies  standin' 

Trod  ilk  on  ither's  taes  to  get  the  chance 

To  see  uslandin'. 

The  besoms !    O  they  smiled  to  me — an'  yet 

They  couldna'  help  it. 

(Myser,  I  just  was  thinkin'  hoo  we'd  get 

They  Gairmans  skelpit.) 

I'm  wearied  wi'  them  for  it's  aye  the  same 

Whaure'er  we  gang, 

Our  Captain  thinks  we've  got  his  een  to  blame, 

But  man !  he 's  wrang ! 

I  winna  say  he 's  no  as  smairt  a  lad 

As  ye  micht  see 

Atween  twa  Sawbiths — aye,  he's  no  sae  bad, 

But  he 's  no  me ! 

Weel,  let  the  limmers  bide ;  their  bonnie  lips 

Are  fine  an'  reid, 

But  me  an'  Weelum 's  got  to  get  to  grips 

Afore  we're  deid, 

A.n'  gin  he  thinks  he  hasna'  met  his  match 

He'll  sune  be  wiser — 

Here 's  to  myself !    Here's  to  the  auld  Black  Watch ! 

An'  damn  the  Kaiser! 

Violet  Jacob, 


48  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

THE  BANKS  0'  DOON 

Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonie  Doon, 

How  can  ye  bloom  sae  fresh  and  fair ! 
How  can  ye  chant,  ye  little  birds, 

And  I  sae  weary  f u '  o '  care ! 
Thou 'It  break  my  heart,  thou  warbling  bird, 

That  wantons  thro '  the  flowering  thorn : 
Thou  minds  me  o'  departed  joys. 

Departed — never  to  return. 

Thou 'It  break  my  heart,  thou  bonie  bird, 

That  sings  beside  thy  mate, 
For  sae  I  sat,  and  sae  I  sang, 

And  wist  na  o'  my  fate. 
Aft  hae  I  rov'd  by  bonie  Doon, 

To  see  the  rose  and  woodbine  twine; 
And  ilka  bird  sang  o'  its  luve. 

And  fondly  sae  did  I  o'  mine. 

Wi'  lightsome  heart  I  pu'd  a  rose, 

Fu'  sweet  upon  its  thorny  tree; 
And  my  fause  luver  stole  my  rose. 

But  ah !  he  left  the  thorn  wi '  me. 
Wi'  lightsome  heart  I  pu'd  a  rose 

Upon  a  morn  in  June; 
And  sae  I  flourish 'd  on  the  morn. 

And  sae  was  pu'd  on  noon. 

Bohert  Burns. 


Material  for  Interpretation  49 

''THE  WIFE  HE  WANTS" 

I  liae  a  wee  thocht  in  my  held, 

A  wee  thocht,  naethin'  mair, 

That  'gin  I  saw  a  lass  I  lik'd, 

I  micht  think  weel  to  pair. 

I  want  nae  wife  to  spoil  my  life, 

Hoo  rich  soe'er  she  be, 

Sae  what  I  like,  and  what  dislike, 

It's  juist  as  well  to  see. 

I  want  nae  lang-legg'd  hizzy  here 

My  wee  bit  hoose  to  share. 

Wha  wants  twa  yairds  or  mair  o'  wife? 

It  isn't  me,  I'll  swear. 

She  micht  forget  to  duck  her  held, 

The  ceilin's  rather  low; 

I  winna  hae  the  plaster  crack 'd 

A'  candidates  should  know. 

I  winna  mairry  by  the  ton. 
And,  therefore,  want  to  say, 
I  '11  hae  nae  big  fat  sowdy  lass 
Trapesin'  roon'  this  way. 
The  furniture's  a  wee  bit  auld, 
I'm  no  sure  o'  the  stairs. 
A  wechty  woman's  gey  severe, 
Especially  on  chairs. 

But  tho'  I  dinna  want  her  fat 
She  maunna  be  too  lean; 
There's  little  comfort  wi'  a  wife 
That,  sideways,  can't  be  seen. 


50  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

I  want  nae  hippopotamus 
But  still  she  must  be  roon*, 
Banes  rattlin'  when  she  mov'd  aboot 
Wad  hae  an  eerie  soon*. 

She  maunna  hae  big  feet  the  lass 

That  wants  wi'  me  to  wed, 

I'll  hae  nae  bettlin '-engines  here 

To  fill  my  life  wi'  dread. 

Besides,  I  hae  improv'd  the  roads 

Aboot  this  bit  o'  fairm, 

And  muekled  poondin'  o'  them  noo 

"Wad  do  a  dale  o'  hairm. 

For  reasons  I  will  here  expleen 

I  canna  hae  rid  hair — 

My  hairt  is  no'  the  strangest  pairt 

The  doctors  a'  declare. 

If  I  cam'  hame  too  sudden  like 

And  saw  my  wife's  rid  heid, 

I  might  suspeck  the  hoose  afire 

And  faint  awa'  clane  deid. 

That  I  command,  that  she  obeys, 

The  lassie  maun  concede. 

I  hand  wi'  Paul  in  this  remark, 

'*The  husband  is  the  heid." 

It's  ae  thing  that  I  winna  stan', 

A  want  o'  due  respeck; 

To  ony  lass  that  wants  to  rule 

I  sartinly  objeck. 

And  yet  I'm  no  the  man  to  fuss 
FoTfDure  objecktin's  sake. 


Material  for  Interpretation  51 

I  ken  that  in  this  mortal  life 

We  hae  to  give  and  take. 

And  gin  the  lassie's  wise  and  guid 

And  dacent  as  to  rank, 

I'll  no  objeck  that  she  should  hae 

A  pickle  in  the  bank. 

John  Stevenson. 


THE  TWA  COURTIN'S 

Behold  twa  auld  wives  seated  at  the  fireside  drinking 
the  blackest  of  tea,  the  old  brown  teapot  at  the  fire, 
blackened  with  use  and  broken  at  the  stroup. 

**Eh,  woman,  but  that's  grand  tea — it  sticks  to  the  roof 
o'  yer  moo!  Nane  o'  yer  new-fangled  German  silver  tea- 
pots for  me;  ye  dinna  get  the  guid  o'  the  tea  unless  it 
stands  half  an  hour  at  the  fire. " 

There  they  sit,  crackling  ower  their  young  days,  the  one 
nervous,  thin,  black-eyed — poetic;  the  other  squat  and 
stout,  practised,  matter-of-fact — prosaic.  But  they  both 
enjoy  a  gossip,  and  kickle  ower  the  stories  o'  their  courtin', 
the  recollection  of  which  seems  even  sweeter  than  the 
reality. 

'*Eh,  but  thae  were  grand  days,  thae  young  days !  Well 
dae  I  mind — dear  me,  this  is  the  very  nicht  forty  years 
sin  that  oor  John  socht  me  for  his  wife.  I'll  tell  ye  the 
whole  story — if  ye '11  promise  to  tell  me  what  your  man 
said  to  you  when  he  socht  you;  but  ye  mauna  repeat  it, 
mind  ye,  to  ony  other  body. 

**John  and  me  had  gane  thegither  for  five  year.  It's  a 
lang  time,  and  I  began  to  weary  on  John — a  woman 
doesna  like  to  hing  on  ower  lang,  ye  ken — I  was  beginnin' 


52  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

to  be  feared  that  if  he  didna  speak  soon  he  widna 
speak  ava. 

** Tuesday  nichts  and  Friday  nichts  were  John's  nichts, 
so  John  and  me  were  rale  sib.  Weel,  ye  ken  my  faither's 
hoose  stood  in  the  middle  o'  a  garden,  and  when  John  cam 
to  see  me  he  gae  three  raps  on  the  window.  Some  ehiels 
gae  twa  raps  and  some  four  raps  and  a  whistle,  but  oor 
John,  ye  ken,  just  gae  three  raps.  Weel,  this  nicht  we 
were  a-sittin '  at  the  fireside,  three  raps  cam  to  the  window, 
and  my  heart  gae  a  dunt,  for  I  kenned  it  was  him.  But  I 
never  let  on,  ye  ken.  By  and  by  I  laid  doon  the  stockin' 
I  was  darnin*  and  slipit  oot  quietly,  and  says  I,  *Is  that 
you,  John?'  and  oot  o'  the  dark  a  deep  voice  says,  'Ay, 
it's  me,  Janet.'  Then  I  heard  a  motion  among  the  bushes, 
and  it  cam'  nearer  and  nearer  till  John  was  at  my  side, 
and  eh!  sic  a  wark  he  made  wi'  me!" 

**Eh,  woman,  look  at  that  de'il  o'  a  laddie  glowerin'  at 
ye  and  takin'  a'  ye  say." 

** Hoots,  awa',  woman!  the  laddie's  ower  young  to  under- 
stand oor  clavers.  Here's  a  piece  an'  treacle  tae  ye, 
Davie.    That'll  shut  his  mouth  and  his  lugs  baith. 

**Weel,  awa  doon  the  brae  we  gaed  thegither.  'It's  a 
fine  nicht,'  says  I.  'Grand  weather  for  the  craps,'  says 
John ;  but  no  anither  word  did  he  speak.  John  was  never 
a  great  hand  at  sayin'  muckle,  and  this  nicht  he  was  waur 
than  ever.  So  doon  the  brae  we  gaed,  and  I  fand  John's 
arm  slippin'  round  my  waist.  By  and  by  I  made  believe 
to  miss  my  foot,  ye  ken,  and  that  gar'd  John  baud  me 
tighter.  I'm  tellin'  ye  the  whole  truth,  altho'  I  think 
black  burnin'  shame.  Folks  thinks  that  it's  the  lads  that 
coorts  the  lasses.  It's  naethin'  o'  the  kind.  It's  the  lasses 
that  coorts  the  lads,  for  I'm  sure  if  I  hadna  gi'en  John 
a  hand,  he  never  hae  gotten  on  ava. 


Material  fdr  Interpretation  5S 

"Eat  awa*  at  yer  piece  and  treacle,  laddie,  and  dinna  ye 
glower  at  me  like  that. 

'^Weel,  at  the  foot  o'  the  brae  we  sat  aneath  a  bus', 
whaur  there  waur  just  room  for  John  and  me,  and  its 
bonnie  branches  hid  us  frae  every  mortal  e'e.  Even  the 
impertinent  man  in  the  moon,  that  sees  sae  mony  things 
he  shouldna  see,  couldna  see  in  on  us  that  nicht.  There 
we  sat  a  lang  time,  and  John  as  usual  said  naething,  but 
a'  this  time  his  arm  was  roond  my  waist,  and  at  last  it 
began  to  shake,  and  he  said,  *  Janet, '  and  thinks  I  to  mysel ', 
'I've  catched  John  at  last';  but  something  stuck  in  his 
throat,  for  he  said  nae  mair.  And  there  we  sat  and  sat 
an'  better  sat  an'  eh !  we  were  sae  happy !  *  Surely,'  thinks 
I,  *this  is  heaven  upon  earth.'  But  all  of  a  sudden  John 
astonished  me,  for  a  better  behaved  young  man  never  lived, 
he  took  a  hand  o'  my  head  and  he  pressed  it  till  his  bosom 
and  I  fand  his  heart  knock,  k-nock,  k-nockin'  against  my 
lug,  and  says  he  to  me,  says  he :  *  Janet,  Janet,  w-w-will 
ye,  will  ye  marry  me?'  Eh,  woman,  wasna  I  richt  glad  to 
hear  that !  But  a  lassie  canna  expect  to  hear  that  very  often 
in  her  life,  so  she  maunna  be  in  a  hurry  to  answer.  The 
tears  were  rinnin'  doon  my  cheeks,  John's  arm  was  roond 
my  waist,  and  my  head  was  on  John's  bosom,  and  his 
heart  was  knockin'  waur  than  ever.  But  I  didna  wait 
ower  lang,  for  fear  I  should  lose  him  a'th'gither;  so  says  I 
to  him,  says  I:  *Jo-o-hn  yes,''  and  wi'  that  oor  John 
gaed  clean  daft  a'th'gither,  and  he  fairly  worried  me  up 
wi'  kisses." 

''Hoot  awa',  woman,"  said  the  prosaic  wife,  ''sic  on- 
gaeins!  My  man  and  me  were  na'  sic  fools.  When  my 
man  cam'  to  see  me,  he  cam'  into  the  hoose  like  ony 
decent  man — to  be  sure  there  was  nane  but  him  and  me 
in  the  hoose  at  the  time — and  he  sits  doon  in  my  faither's 


54  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

chair,  puts  one  leg  ower  the  tither,  and  toasts  his  taes 
at  the  fire.  '  Ony  news  ? '  says  I.  '  Ou !  ay,  *  says  he ;  *  I  've 
ta  'en  a  hoose. '  *  Ta  'en  a  hoose, '  says  I.  '  Ay !  ta  'en  a  hoose, 
and  furnishin'  a  hoose.'  *Losh  be  here,'  quo  I,  *ta'en  a 
hoose  and  furnishin'  a  hoose!  wha  are  ye  furnishin'  the 
hoose  for?'  *I'm  furnishin'  the  hoose  for  you.'  *0h,  if 
that  be  the  way  o't,  it  wad  be  a  great  pity  to  lose  the 
guid  furnitur'." 

David  Kennedy. 

MY  AIN  FIRESIDE 

0,  I  hae  seen  great  anes  and  sat  in  great  ha 's, 
'Mang  lords  and  'mang  ladies  a'  cover 'd  wi'  braws; 
But  a  sight  sae  delightful  I  trow  I  ne'er  spied 
As  the  bonnie  blythe  blink  o'  my  ain  fireside, 
My  ain  fireside,  my  ain  fireside, 
0,  sweet  is  the  blink  o'  my  ain  fireside. 

Ance  mair,  heaven  be  praised!  round  my  ain  heartsome 
ingle, 

Wi'  the  frien's  o'  my  youth  I  cordially  mingle; 

Nae  forms  to  compel  me  to  seem  wae  or  glad, 

I  may  laugh  when  I'm  merry  and  sigh  when  I'm  sad. 
My  air  fireside,  my  ain  fireside, 
O,  sweet  is  the  blink  o'  my  ain  fireside. 

Nae  falsehood  to  dread,  nae  malice  to  fear. 

But  truth  to  delight  me,  and  friendship  to  cheer 

0'  a'  roads  to  happiness  ever  were  tried. 

There's  nane  half  so  sure  as  ane's  ain  fireside, 
My  ain  fireside,  my  ain  fireside, 
0,  sweet  is  the  blink  o'  my  ain  fireside. 

William  H.  Hamilton. 


Material  for  Interpretation  55 


WHY  NO  SCOTCHMEN  GO  TO  HEAVEN 

Long  years  ago,  in  times  so  remote  that  history  does  not 
fix  the  epoch,  a  dreadful  war  was  waged  by  the  king  of 
Scotland.  Scottish  valor  prevailed;  and  the  king  of  Scot- 
land, elated  by  succesa,  sent  for  his  prime  minister. 

''Weel,  Sandy,"  said  he,  *'is  there  ne'er  a  king  we 
canna  conquer  noo?" 

**An'  it  please  your  majesty,  I  ken  a  king  that  your 
majesty  canna  vanquish." 

**An'  who  is  he,  Sandy?" 

The  prime  minister,  reverently  looking  up,  said,  **The 
King  o'  heaven." 

''The  king  of  whaur,  Sandy?" 

**The  King  o'  heaven." 

The  Scottish  king  did  not  understand,  but  was  unwill- 
ing to  exhibit  any  ignorance. 

''Just  gang  your  ways,  Sandy,  and  tell  King  o'  heaven 
to  gi'e  up  his  dominions,  or  I'll  come  mysel'  and  ding 
him  oot  o'  them;  and  mind  you,  Sandy,  you  dinna  come 
back  to  us  until  ye  ha'e  dune  oor  biddin'." 

The  prime  minister  retired  much  perplexed,  and 
met  a  priest,  and  reassured,  returned  and  presented  him- 
self. 

"Weel,  Sandy,"  said  the  king,  "ha'e  ye  seen  the  King 
o'  heaven?  and  what  says  he  to  our  biddin'?" 

"An  it  please  your  majesty,  I  ha'e  seen  one  of  his  ac- 
credited ministers." 

"Weel,  and  what  says  he?" 

"He  says  your  majesty  may  e'en  ha'e  his  kingdom  for 
theaxin'  o'  it." 

"Was  he  sae  civil?"  asked  the  king  warming  to  magna- 


56  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

nimity.  **Just  gang  your  ways  back,  Sandy,  an'  tell  the 
King  o'  heaven  that  for  his  civility  the  de'il  a  Scotchman 
shall  set  foot  in  his  kingdom." 


''DID  YOU  EVER?" 

Did  you  ever  see  the  sun 
When  his  day's  wark's  nearly  done, 
Wi'  his  hand  stuck  in  his  pocket 
And  his  held  to  one  side  cockit, 
Smilin'  beams  of  golden  light? 
While  he's  waitin'  for  the  night? 

Did  you  ever  see  the  sea 
Take  it  easy-like,  a  wee, 
Wi'  the  gulls  aboon  her  cryin', 
And  she  at  fu'  length  lyin' 
On  her  bed  o'  broon  seaweed 
Wi'  her  hands  beneath  her  heid? 

Did  you  ever  see  the  moon 
On  a  winter  afternoon 
Mak'  a  lookin '-glass  o'  water; 
See  the  mirror  quickly  shatter 
As  it  lay  before  your  sight 
Into  bits  o'  silver  light? 

Did  you  ever  hear  the  trees 

Talk  in  whispers  to  the  breeze 

O'  the  Spring  and  Summer  glories; 

Laughin'  at  the  funny  stories, 

That  sae  cunnin'ly  he  weaves, 

Till  their  laughter  shakes   the  leaves  V 


Material  for  Interpretation  57 

Did  you  ever  see  the  stars 

Ridin'  roon'  the  sky  on  cars 

Made  o'  clouds  and  mists  and  vapours, 

Winkin',  shootin',  cuttin'  capers, 

Playin'  hide-and-seek,  bo-peep, 

When  the  moon  is  fast  asleep? 

Never  saw  sic  things,  ye  said, 

Why,  wherever  were  ye  bred. 

Bootless  in  some  toonship  smoky 

Whaur  the  air  is  thick  and  choky, 

Whaur  they  hae  nae  sun  nor  moon. 

Nor  a  breeze  to  play  a  tune. 

Or  to  tell  a  funny  story; 

Whaur  the  water's  mirror 'd  glory, 

Sleepin'  sea  and  starry  blue, 

Are  for  ever  hid  frae  view. 

Och,  I  petty  ye — I  do. 

John  Stevenson, 

MYAINWIFE 

0  KEN  ye  no'  my  ain  wife, 

Sae  cheery,  young,  an'  free; 
0  saw  ye  ne'er  my  ain  wife, 

She's  mair  than  gowd  to  me; 
Sae  bonny,  thrifty,  neat  and  kind, 

Sae  fu'  o'  sense  and  glee; 
O  wha  kens  no  my  ain  wife. 
Kens  no '  what  wives  should  be ! 

Sae  patient,  loving,  blithe,  an'  true, 

At  least  she's  sae  to  me! 
O,  I  wadna  gie  my  ain  wife 
For  ony  wife  I  see! 


58  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Our  hame,  it  is  a  cosy  hame, 

Our  garden  is  na'  sma'; 
My  wife  amang  her  blossoms  blooms 

The  sweetest  of  them  a ' ; 
The  rose  an'  lily  on  her  cheeks 

Are  mingled  baith  sae  fair, 
I  often  think  the  blushing  things 
Hae  found  their  beauty  there: 

She 's  mair  sweet  than  the  sweetest  flower, 

At  least  she 's  sae  to  me ! 
O,  I  wadna  gie  my  ain  wife 
For  ony  wife  I  see! 

The  mavis  on  the  sycamore, 

The  lintie  on  the  spray, 
The  laverock  quivering  up  the  sky, 

Sing  sweet  at  break  o '  day. 
0  ilka  bird  that  ever  sang, 
On  tree  or  joyous  wing, 
Wad  cease  its  sweetest  happy  strain 
To  hear  my  wifie  sing ! 

Sae  fu'  o'  feeling  is  her  voice. 

At  least  it's  sae  to  me; 
0,  I  wadna  gie  my  ain  wife 
For  ony  wife  I  see ! 

Francis  Bennoch. 


HIGHLAND  MARY 

Ye  bauKS,  and  braes,  and  streams  around 

The  castle  o'  Montgomery, 
Green  be  your  woods,  and  fair  your  flowers. 

Your  waters  never  drumlie! 


Material  for  Interpretation  59 

There  simmer  first  unfauld  her  robes, 

And  there  the  langest  tarry ! 
For  there  I  took  the  last  fareweel 

0'  my  sweet  Highland  Mary. 

How  sweetly  bloom 'd  the  gay  green  birk, 

How  rich  the  hawthorn 's  blossom ! 
As  underneath  their  fragrant  shade, 

I  clasp  'd  her  to  my  bosom ! 
The  golden  hours,  on  angel  wings, 

Flew  0  'er  me  and  my  dearie ; 
For  dear  to  me  as  light  and  life, 

Was  my  sweet  Highland  Mary. 

Wi'  mony  a  vow,  and  lock'd  embrace, 

Our  parting  was  fu'  tender; 
And,  pledging  aft  to  meet  again, 

We  tore  oursels  asunder; 
But  Oh !  fell  death 's  untimely  frost, 

That  nipt  my  flower  sae  early ! 
Now  green's  the  sod,  and  cauld's  the  clay, 

That  wraps  my  Highland  Mary! 

O  pale,  pale  now  those  rosy  lips 

I  aft  hae  kiss'd  sae  fondly! 
And  closed  for  aye  the  sparkling  glance. 

That  dwelt  on  me  sae  kindly! 
And  mouldering  now  in  silent  dust, 

That  heart  that  lo  'ed  me  dearly ! 
But  still  within  my  bosom's  core, 

Shall  live  my  Highland  Mary. 

Robert  Burns. 


60  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

CUDDLE  DOON 

The  bairnies  cuddle  doon  at  nicht 

Wi'  muckle  faucht  an'  din, 
*'0h,  try  and  sleep,  ye  waukrife  rogues; 

Your  father's  comin'  in." 
They  never  heed  a  word  I  speak, 

I  try  to  gie  a  f roon ; 
But  aye  I  hap  them  up  an'  cry 

**0h,  bairnies,  cuddle  doon!" 

Wee  Jamie  wi'  the  curly  heid — 

He  aye  sleeps  next  the  wa' — 
Bangs  up  an'  cries,  ''I  want  a  piece"—* 

The  rascal  starts  them  a'. 
I  rin  an'  fetch  them  pieces,  drinks — 

Then  stop  awee  the  soun' — 
Then  draw  the  blankets  up,  and  cry, 

**Noo,  weanies,  cuddle  doon!" 

But  ere  five  minutes  gang,  wee  Rab 

Cries  out  frae  'neath  the  claes, 
**Mither,  mak'  Tam  gie  ower  at  ance; 

He's  kittlin'  wi  his  taes." 
The  mischief's  in  that  Tam  for  tricks: 

He'd  bother  half  the  toon, 
But  aye  I  hap  them  up  and  cry, 

*  *  Oh,  bairnies,  cuddle  doon ! ' ' 

At  length  they  hear  their  father's  fit; 

An'  as  he  steeks  the  door, 
They  turn  their  faces  to  the  wa', 

While  Tam  pretends  to  snore. 


Material  for  Interpretation  61 

**Hae  a'  the  weans  been  gude?"  he  asks, 

As  he  pits  off  his  shoon. 
**The  bairnies,  John,  are  in  their  beds, 

An'  lang  since  cuddled  doon." 

An'  just  afore  we  bed  oorsels, 

We  look  at  oor  wee  lambs. 
Tarn  has  his  airm  roun'  wee  Rab's  neck, 

And  Rab  his  airm  roun'  Tam's. 
I  lift  wee  Jamie  up  the  bed, 

An'  as  I  straik  each  croon, 
I  whisper  till  my  heart  fills  up, 

**0h,  bairnies,  cuddle  doon!" 

The  bairnies  cuddle  doon  at  nicht 

Wi'  mirth  that's  dear  to  me ; 
But  soon  the  big  warl's  cark  an'  care 

Will  quaten  doon  their  glee. 
Yet  come  what  will  to  ilka  ane. 

May  He  who  sits  aboon 
Aye  whisper,  though  their  pows  be  bauld, 

**0h,  bairnies,  cuddle  doon!" 

Alexander  Anderson. 


A  SCOTCH  WOOING 

(A  story  is  told  of  a  Scotchman  who,  loving  a  lassie,  desired  her 
for  his  wife.  But  he  possessed  the  prudence  of  his  race.  He  had 
noticed  in  his  own  circle  many  an  otherwise  promising  union  result 
in  disappointment  and  dismay,  purely  in  consequence  of  the  false 
estimate  formed  by  bride  or  bridegroom  concerning  the  imagined 
perfections  of  the  other.  He  determined  that  in  his  own  case  no 
collapsed  ideal  should  be  possible.  Therefore  it  was  that  the  follow- 
ing proposal  took  place.) 


d2  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

* '  I  'm  but  a  puir  lad,  Jennie ;  I  hae  nae  siller  to  offer  ye, 
and  nae  land." 

'*Ah,  but  ye  hae  yourseP,  Davie!*' 

*'An'  I'm  wishfu'  it  wa'  onything  else,  lassie.  I'm  nae 
but  a  puir  ill-seasoned  loon,  Jennie." 

''Na,  na;  there's  money  a  lad  mair  ill-looking  than 
yersel',  Davie." 

*'I  hae  na  seen  him,  lass,  and  I'm  just  a-thinkin'  I 
shouldna'  care  to." 

"Better  a  plain  man,  Davie,  that  ye  can  depend  on  than 
ane  that  would  be  a-speirin'  at  the  lassies,  a-bringin' 
trouble  into  the  hame  wi'  his  flouting  ways." 

* '  Dinna  ye  reckon  on  that,  Jennie ;  it 's  nae  the  bonniest 
Bubbly-Jock  that  maks  the  most  feathers  to  fly  in  the 
kailyard.  I  was  ever  a  lad  to  run  after  the  petticoats,  as 
is  weel  kent;  an'  it's  a  weary  handfu'  I'll  be  to  ye,  I'm 
thinkin'." 

**Ah,  but  ye  hae  a  kind  heart,  Davie!  an'  ye  love  me 
weel.    I'm  sure  on't." 

**I  like  ye  weel  enoo',  Jennie,  though  I  canna  say  how 
long  the  feeling  may  abide  wi'  me;  an'  I'm  kind  enoo' 
when  I  hae  my  ain  way,  an  naethin'  happens  to  put  me 
oot.  But  I  hae  the  deevil's  ain  temper,  as  my  mither  can 
tell  ye,  an',  like  my  puir  fayther,  I'm  a-thinkin'  I'll  grow 
nae  better  as  I  grow  mair  auld." 

'*Ay,  but  ye 're  sair  hard  upon  yersel',  Davie.  Ye 're  an 
honest  lad.  I  ken  ye  better  than  ye  ken  yersel',  an'  ye '11 
mak  a  guid  hame  for  me." 

** Maybe,  Jennie !  But  I  hae  my  doots.  It's  a  sair  thing 
for  wife  and  bairns  when  the  guid  man  canna  keep  awa' 
frae  the  glass;  an'  when  the  scent  of  the  whusky  comes 
to  me  it's  just  as  though  I  hae'd  the  throat  o'  a  Loch  Tay 
salmon;  it  just  gaes  doon  an'  doon,  an'  ther's  nae  filling 


Material  for  Interpretation  6S 

**Ay,  but  ye 're  a  guid  man  when  ye 're  sober,  Davie.'* 
** Maybe  I'll  be  that,  Jennie,  if  I'm  nae  disturbed." 
**An  ye '11  bide  wi'  me,  Davie,  an'  work  for  me?" 
**I  see  nae  reason  why  I  shouldna  bide  wi'  ye,  Jennie; 
but  dinna  ye  clack  aboot  work  to  me,  for  I  just  canna  bear 
the  thoct  o't." 

*  *  Anyhow,  ye  '11  do  your  best,  Davie  ?  As  the  minister 
says,  nae  man  can  do  mair  than  that." 

*'An'  it's  a  puir  best  that  mine '11  be,  Jennie,  and  I'm 
nae  sae  sure  ye '11  hae  ower  muckle  even  o'  that.  We're  a' 
weak,  sinfu'  creatures,  Jennie,  an'  ye'd  hae  some  deefiS- 
culty  to  fin'  a  man  weaker  or  mair  sinfu'  than  mysel'." 

**Weel,  weel,  ye  hae  a  truthfu'  tongue,  Davie.  Mony  a 
lad  will  mak  fine  promises  to  a  puir  lassie,  only  to  break 
'em  an'  heart  wi'  'em.  Ye  speak  me  fair,  Davie,  and  I'm 
thinkin'  I'll  just  tak  ye,  an'  see  what  comes  o't." 

Jerome  K.  Jerome, 
(From  **  Three  Men  on  the  Bummel/*) 

AULD  DADDY  DARKNESS 

AuLD  Daddy  Darkness  creeps  frae  his  hole, 
Black  as  a  blackamoor,  blin'  as  a  mole; 
Stir  the  fire  till  it  lowes,  let  the  bairnie  sit, 
Auld  Daddy  Darkness  is  no  wantit  yet. 

See  him  in  the  corners  hidin'  frae  the  licht, 
See  him  at  the  window  gloomin '  at  the  nicht ; 
•Turn  up  the  gas  licht,  close  the  shutters  a', 
An'  Auld  Daddy  Darkness  will  flee  far  awa'. 

Awa'  to  hide  the  birdie  within  its  cosy  nest, 
Awa'  to  lap  the  wee  flooers  on  their  mither 's  breast, 
Awa'  to  loosen  Gaffer  Toil  frae  his  daily  ca', 
For  Auld  Daddy  Darkness  is  kindly  to  a'. 


64  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

He  comes  when  we're  weary  to  wean's  frae  oor  waes, 
He  comes  when  the  bairnies  are  getting  aff  th-eir  claes ; 
To  cover  them  sae  cosy,  an '  bring  bonnie  dreams, 
So  Auld  Daddy  Darkness  is  better  than  he  seems. 

Steek  yer  een,  my  wee  tot,  ye '11  see  Daddy  then; 
He's  in  below  the  bed  claes,  to  cuddle  ye  he's  fain ; 
Noo  nestle  in  his  bosie,  sleep  and  dream  yer  fill, 
Till  Wee  Davie  Daylicht  comes  keekin,  owre  the  hill 

James  Fergiison, 


LAST  MAY  A  BRAW  WOOER 

Last  May  a  braw  wooer  cam  down  the  lang  glen, 
And  sair  wi'  his  love  he  did  deave  me; 

I  said  there  was  naething  I  hated  like  men. 
The  deuce  gae  wi'm,  to  believe  me,  believe  me, 
The  deuce  gae  wi'm,  to  believe  me! 

He  spak  o'  the  darts  in  my  bonnie  black  een, 
And  vow'd  for  my  love  he  was  deein'; 

I  said  he  might  dee  when  he  liked,  for  Jean, 
The  Lord  forgive  me  for  leein',  for  leein', 
The  Lord  forgive  me  for  leein ' ! 

A  weel-stocked  mailen, — ^himsel'  for  the  laird, — 
And  marriage  aff-hand,  were  his  proffer: 

I  never  loot  on  that  I  kenn'd  it,  or  car'd. 
But  thought  I  might  hae  waur  offers,  waur  offers, 
But  thought  I  might  hae  waur  offers. 

But  what  wad  ye  think?  in  a  fortnight  or  less, — 
The  deil  tak  his  taste  to  gae  near  her ! 


Material  for  Interpretation  65 

He  up  the  lang  loan  to  my  black  cousin  Bess, 
Guess  ye  how,  the  jad !  I  could  bear  her,  could  bear  her, 
Guess  ye  how,  the  jad!  I  could  bear  her. 

But  a*  the  neist  week  as  I  petted  wi'  care, 

I  gaed  to  the  tryst  o'  Dalgarnock, 
And  wha  but  my  fine  fickle  lover  was  tliere! 

I  glowr'd  as  I'd  seen  a  warlock,  a  warlock, 

I  glowr'd  as  I'd  seen  a  warlock. 

But  owre  my  left  shoulther  I  ga'e  him  a  blink. 

Lest  neebors  might  say  I  was  saucy; 
My  wooer  he  caper 'd  as  he'd  been  in  drink, 

And  vow'd  I  was  his  dear  lassie,  dear  lassie. 

And  vow'd  I  was  his  dear  lassie. 

I  spier 'd  for  my  cousin  fu'  couthy  and  sweet. 

Gin  she  had  recover 'd  her  hearin'. 
And  how  her  new  shoon  fit  her  auld  shachl'd  feet. 

But,  heavens!  how  he  fell  a  swearin',  a  swearin', 

But,  heavens!  how  he  fell  a  swearin'! 

He  begged,  for  gudesake !    I  wad  be  his  wife, 

Or  else  I  wad  kill  him  wi'  sorrows: 
So  e'en  to  preserve  the  poor  body  in  life, 

I  think  I  maun  wed  him  to-morrow,  to-morrow, 

I  think  I  maun  wed  him  to-morrow. 

Robert  Burns. 

THE  ARTIST 

His  claes  were  thin  and  shabby  when  first  he  reached  this 

pairt, 
Wi'  box  o'  pents  and  brushes  and  a  big  sowl  fu'  o'  Airt. 


66  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

His  purse  was  thin  and  hungry  wi'  a  leanness  sair  to  see; 
Its  twa  sides  clapp  'd  thegither  just  as  lean  as  lean  could  be. 

He  pented  land  and  seascapes,  and  he  didna  pent  them  ill, 
And  tuk  leeberties  wi'  Nature  for  to  mak'  them  finer  still. 

He  pented  a'  his  simmer  skies  a  double  extra  blue, 
Nae  Antrim  sky  since  Adam  leev'd  had  ever  sic  a  hue. 

He  acted  very  leeberal  to  mountains  as  to  height. 

And  gied  them  a'  a  thousan'  feet  aboon  their  size  by  right. 

And  whaur  the  coast  had  naethin*  hard  to  meet  the  billows* 

shocks, 
He  thocht  it  only  fair  to  paint  a  wheen  o'  craggy  rocks. 

A  lak  or  twa  he  would  insart  to  change  the  country's 

face. 
And  trees  in  twas  and  threes  and  groves  he  dabb'd  a' 

ow'r  the  place. 

He  even  in  his  picters  wad  the  times  and  saisons  change, 
Had  new-born  lambs  at  harvest  time — a  thing  we  thocht 
was  strange. 

** Imagination,  aye,"  he  said,  ''should  guide  the  penter's 
hand," 

And  that,  of  course,  explain 'd  the  things  we  didna  under- 
stand. 

He  wark'd  wi*  mortial  industry  and  few  divarteesements, 
The  wal  was  hard  put  to  to  find  the  water  for  his  pents. 

And,  week  by  week,  he  bundled  aff  to  London  picter  men 
His  landscapes  and  his  seascapes  and  his  studies  o '  the  glen. 


Material  for  Interpretation  67 

But  still  the  puir  wee  purse  was  lean,  its  twa  sides  did 

adhere, 
Its  stomach  hadna  shelter  'd  goold  for  nigh  upon  a  year. 

In  sheer  despair  anither  sketch,  his  biggest  yet,  he  tried, — 
A  sheet  o'  three  feet  lang  or  mair  and  maybe  twa  feet 
wide  — 

A  masterpiece  it  was  to  be  o'  airtist's  brain  and  hand, 
He  show'd  the  distant  Scottish  shore  and  miles  o*  sea  and 
land. 

He  put  in  a'  that  for  these  pairts  Dame  Nature  had  decreed, 
And  things  she  hadna  thocht  o '  he  invented  f rae  his  heid. 

He  made  a  reef  o'  wicked  rocks  rin  right  acrass  the  bay, 
He  used  his  verra  deepest  blue  to  reprisint  the  say. 

Behind  big  Billy  Shepherd's  hoose  he  made  a  mountain  be 
And  planted  his  bog-medda  wi '  a  cur  'ous  kind  of  tree. 

He  shifted  objects  till  he  found  their  maist  effective  spot. 
And  in  the  foremost  foregrun  plac'd  auld  Peggy  Martin's 
cot. 

Auld  Peggy  was  a  widdy  wife  wi  temper  and  a  tongue 
That  talk'd  three  husbands  to  their  graves  while  yet  a 
woman  young. 

Her  hoose  was  puir  and  Airt  is  Airt,  but  still  I  must  admit 
He  took  ow'r  mony  leeberties  the  day  he  pented  it. 

He  made  the  wa's  a'  tumble-doon  and  slimy  green  and  foul. 
And  took  the  chimney  aff  the  hoose  to  plase  his  artist  sowl. 


68  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

It  wadna  weel  agree  wi'  that  to  hae  it  waterproof, 
Sae  holes  in  great  variety  he  dotted  ow'r  the  roof. 

The   windys   a*    were    stuffed    wi'    rags   to    make   them 

harmoneeze, 
And  just  inside  the  kitchen  daur  a  braw  pig  stood  at  ease. 

The  midden  that  behind  the  byre  was  found  in  Peggy's 

case, 
He  pented  right  f  orninst  the  door  in  a  convanient  place. 

The  picter  finished  to  his  taste  the  puir  consaited  wretch 
Invited  Peg,  then  passin'  near,  come  and  see  the  sketch. 

She  cam'  wi'  smiles,  her  can  o'  suds  she  sat  doon  by  the  way 
And  apron- wip'd  her  airms  a  bit,  for  it  was  washin'  day. 

She  look'd,  she  grunted,  grunted  mair — the  smilin'  face 

was  gone; 
It  didna  need  a  seer  to  see  a  storm  was  comin'  on. 

**And  wha's  pig-stye  is  that?"  quo'  she,  **wha's  pig-stye 

may  it  be. 
Is  that  my  hoose?  noo  answer  that,  just  answer  straight 

to  me." 

He  tried  to  soothe  the  angry  wife,  and  show'd  that  trate- 

ment  free 
0'  subjeck  was  the  artist's  right,  as  plain  as  plain  could  be. 

**Deil  tak'  ye  and  yer  subjeck  and  the  treatment  ye  ca' 

free. 
It's  the  tratement  o'  the  widdy  that  I'm  thinkin'  o'/* 

quo'  she. 


Material  for  Interpretation  69 

*'I've  slaved  till  I  can  hardly  stand  on  my  twa  blissid  feet 
To  hae  the  place  look  dacent-like  in  that  there  pented  sheet. 

"I  whitewas'd  a'  the  wa's  myseP,  I  did  them  yesterday 
I  wesh'd  tha  windys  weel  wi'  soap  and  swep'  the  yerd  o' 
strae. 

**And  that's  my  thanks,  my  gintleman,  and  that's  the  way 

ye  trate 
A  puir  lone  widdy  that  has  got  to  arn  her  bit  o*  mate. 

**Ye  winna  hae  the  pleasure,  tho',  to  send  abroad  yer 

cheat, '  * 
Wi'  that  she  dash'd  her  dirty  suds  right  ow'er  the  pented 

sheet. 

**Ye  ca'  it  wather-colour  wark,  I  ca'  it  thrash  instead, 
But  wather-colour  it  will  be  in  arnest  noo, ' '  she  said. 

Then  aff  she  stepped,  her  angry  voice  still  growlin'  oot 

her  ills. 
Like  thunder  sweerin*  to  itsel'  awa'  amang  the  hills. 

The  puir  wee  penter  man  sat  doon  and  cudna  help  but  weep 
"While  f rae  the  sheet  the  dirty  suds  went  dhreepin '  dhreep- 
a-dhreep. 

And  yin  side  o'  the  hungry  purse  said  to  the  ither  then, 
*^It's  plain  to  me  there'll  naethin'  come  'twixt  you  and 
me  again." 

The  penter  *s  een  still  weepin'  sair  fell  on  his  pictur  wet, 
He  thocht  it  didna  look  sae  bad  and  might  be  savit  yet. 


70  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

The  suds  that  wesh'd  some  pent  awa'  had  blended  what 

remained 
To  gie  result  the  penter's  skill  could  never  hae  attained. 

The  pictur,  then,  wi'   doots  and   fears  its  journey  did 

perform 
To  London  toon,  and  lo,  behold,  it  took  the  place  by  storm. 

It  fairly  took  the  breath  awa'  frae  the  suparior  powers, 
And  big  folk  cam '  in  carriages  to  look  at  it  for  hours. 

**Hoo  beautiful!  hoo  eggswhiskit ! * '  the  leddies  a'  ex- 
claimed, 

And  thro'  their  spy-glesses  obsarv'd  what  penter  hadn't 
dhramed. 

'*Sic  pearly  greys!"  the  critics  said,  **sic  atmosphere!  sic 

tone! 
It's  shair  the  finest  piece  o'  wark  the  century  has  shown." 

The  pictur  papers  a'  prodooced  the  penter 's  photograph, 
And  a'  the  larn'd  societies  elected  him  straight  aff. 

The  king  that  rules  these  kingdoms  three  and  nane  may 

disobey 
Commanded  him,  on  penalty,  to  dine  wi '  him  next  day. 

The  puir  wee  purse  sae  hungry  yince,  wi'  clingin'  sides  sae 

lean, 
Is  noo  about  the  fattest  purse  that  ever  met  yer  een. 

And  noo  the  penter  drives  his  coach  and  gangs  in  stylish 

duds 
(He  doesn't  tell  the  people,  tho,  o'  Peggy  and  the  suds). 

John  Stevenson 


Material  for  Interpretation  71 


WHEN  MITHER'S  GANB 

It  mak's  a  change  in  a^thing  roon' 

When  mither's  gane. 

The  cat  has  less  contented  croon, 

The  kettle  has  a  dowie  tune, 

There's  naething  has  sae  blythe  a  soon, 

Sin'  mither's  gane. 

The  bairnies  gang  wi'  ragged  claes, 
Sin'  mither's  gane. 

There's  nane  to  mend  their  broken  taes. 
Or  laugh  at  a'  their  pawky  ways, 
The  nichts  are  langer  than  the  days, 
When  mither's  gane. 

Wha'  cheers  them  when  there's  ocht  amiss. 

Sin'  mither's  gane? 

Wha'  tak's  their  pairt  in  that  or  this, 

An'  oot  o'  trouble  mak's  a  bliss, 

Wi'  kindly  word  an'  guid-nicht  kiss? 

Dear  mither's  gane. 

The  father's  there;  but  losh!  puir  man, 

Sin'  mither's  gane. 

Although  he  does  the  best  he  can, 

He  hasna  sic  a  tender  han' — 

The  bottom's  oot  o'  nature's  plan, 

When  mither's  gane. 

O  lonely  hoose,  O  empty  chair— 
The  mither's  gane. 


72  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Yet  fancy  aften  sees  her  there, 
Wi'  a'  the  smiles  she  used  to  wear, 
Whilk  brings  oor  hearts  maist  to  despair 
To  think  she's  gane. 

Anonymous, 


COOM,  LASSIE,  BE  GOOD  TO  ME 

CooM,  Lassie,  be  good  to  me.    Winna  ye,  dear? 
YeVe  taken  a'  my  hairt,  ye  shall  hae  a'  my  gear; 
I  wadna  be  gangin*  aboot  all  alane 
If  the  warld  were  a'  siller,  an*  you  not  my  ain. 

The  birds  are  a '  matin  \  the  flowers  wed  the  grass. 
An'  you  are  my  springtime,  my  ain  bonnie  lass; 
Like  kiss  o'  the  sun  to  the  lif e-springin '  sod, 
Put  your  lips  to  my  ain ;  were  1  you  I  wad. 

My  hairt  is  a-thumpin'  like  sticks  on  a  drum. 
Just  rantin'  wi'  hunger;  coom,  gie  it  a  crumb; 
My  eyes  are  a'  thirstin'  like  night  for  the  dew. 
Let  them  drink,  my  ain  darlin',  in  one  look  frae  you. 

Coom,  fill  up  the  crook  o'  my  long  waitin'  airm, 
I'll  huddle  ye  close  an'  I'll  shiel'  ye  frae  hairm. 
Put  your  han'  in  my  ain ;  let  me  spier  in  your  ear ; — 
Coom,  Lassie,  be  good  to  me.    Winna  ye,  dear? 

Charles  Mcllvane, 


SECTION  vn 

ITALIAN 


SECTION  VII 

ITALIAN 

(See  also  '* Modern  Literature  for  Oral  Interpretation/' 
Johnson,  pages  41  and  43,  poetry.) 

BETWEEN  TWO  LOVES 

I  GOTTA  lov'  for  Angela, 
I  lov'  Carlotta,  too. 
I  no  can  marry  both  o'  dem, 
So  w'at  I  gonna  do? 
O!  Angela  ees  pretta  girl, 
She  gotta  hair  so  black,  so  curl, 
An'  teeth  so  white  as  anytheeng. 
An'  0!  she  gotta  voice  to  seeng, 
Dat  mak'  your  hearta  feel  eet  must 
Jump  up  an '  dance  or  eet  weell  bust. 
An'  alia  time  she  seeng;  her  eyes 
Dey  smila  like  Italia 's  skies, 
An'  makin'  flirtin'  looks  at  you — 
But  dat  ees  all  w'at  she  can  do. 
Carlotta  ees  no  gotta  song, 
But  she  ees  twice  so  big  an'  strong 
As  Angela,  an'  she  no  look 
So  beautiful — but  she  can  cook. 
You  oughta  see  her  carry  wood ! 
I  tal  you  w'at,  eet  do  you  good. 
When  she  ees  be  som'body  wife 
She  worka  hard,  you  bat  my  life ! 
75 


76  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

She  never  gattin'  tired,  too — 

But  dat  ees  all  w'at  she  can  do. 

0 !  my !  I  weesh  dat  Angela 

Was  strong  for  carry  wood, 

Or  else  Carlotta  gotta  song 

An'  looka  pretta  good. 

I  gotta  lov'  for  Angela, 

I  lov'  Carlotta,  too. 

So  w*at  I  gonna  do? 

I  no  can  marry  both  o*  dem. 

T,  A.  Daly. 

SO  GLAD  FOR  SPREENG 

Eef  somTjody  com*  today 
To  dees  fruita-stan'  an'  say: 
*  *  Wat  ?    Banana  two  f  or  fi '  ? 
Seems  to  me  dat's  verra  high!'* 
I  would  look  up  een  da  sky 
Where  da  sun  ees  shine  so  bright. 
An'  da  clouds  so  sof '  an'  white 
Sail  like  boats  I  use'  to  see 
Een  da  bay  at  Napoli; 
An'  so  softa  theeng  I  am, 
I  would  notta  care  a  dam 
Eef  de  customer  should  be 
Sly  enough  for  taka  three! 
^  Eef  like  dat  you  com'  today 

Mebbe  so  I  justa  say: 
**See  da  Tony  McAroni! 
He  ees  verray  lazy  thing, 
W'at  da  deuce  he  care  for  money? 
Here  ees  com'  da  spreeng!" 


Material  for  Interpretation  77 

Eef  today  I  had  a  wife 

An '  she  say :    *  *  My  love !  my  life ! 

I  mus'  have  fi '-dollar  note 

For  da  new  spreeng  hat  an*  coat," 

Theenk  I  gona  grab  her  throat, 

Bang  her  head  agains'  da  wall? 

Eh,    Today?    Oh,  not  at  all! 

She  would  look  so  pretta  dere 

Weeth  da  sunshine  on  her  hair, 

I  would  look  at  her,  an'  den 

I  would  tal  her :    *  *  Taka  ten  f ' 

Eef  I  had  a  wife  today 

I  am  sure  dat  I  would  say : 

"All  right,  Mrs.  McAroni, 

I  am  verry  softa  theeng. 

Wat  de  deuce  I  care  for  money? 

Here  ees  com'  da  spreeng!" 


T,  A,  Daly. 


DA  'MERICANA  GIRL 


I  GATTA  mash  weeth  Mag  McCue, 

An'  she  ees  'Mericana  too! 

Ha!  w'at  you  theenk?    Now,  mebbe  so, 

You  weell  no  calla  me  so  slow 

Eef  som'time  you  can  looka  see 

How  she  ees  com*  an'  flirt  weeth  me. 

Most  evra  two,  free  day,  my  fraud, 

She  stop  by  dees  peanutta-stand 

An'  smile  an'  mak'  da  googla-eye 

An'  justa  look  at  me  an'  sigh. 

An'  alia  time  she  so  excite' 

She  peeck  som  fruit  an'  taka  bite. 


78  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

O !  my,  she  eesa  look  so  sweet 
I  no  care  how  much  fruit  she  eat. 
Me?    I  am  cool  an'  mak'  pretand 
I  want  no  more  dan  be  her  f rand ; 
But  een  my  heart,  you  bat  my  life, 
I  theenk  of  her  for  be  my  wife. 
Today  I  theenk:    *'Now  I  weell  see 
How  moocha  she  is  mash  weeth  me,*' 
An'  so  I  speak  of  dees  an'  dat, 
How  moocha  playnta  mon'  I  gat. 
How  mooch  I  makin'  evra  day 
An'  w'at  I  spand  an'  put  away. 
An'  den  I  ask,  so  queeck,  so  sly: 
'*You  theenk  som'  pretta  girl  weell  try 
For  lovin'  me  a  lettla  beet?" — 
O!  My!  she  eesa  blush  so  sweet! — 
**An'  eef  I  ask  her  lika  dees 
For  geevin'  me  a  leetla  keess, 
You  s'pose  she  geeve  me  van  or  two?" 
She  tal  me :    '  *  Twenty-t  'ree  for  you !  * ' 
An'  den  she  laugh  so  sweet,  an'  say: 
**Skeeddoo!  Skeeddoo!"  an'  run  away. 

She  like  so  mooch  for  keessa  me 

She  gona  geeve  me  twanty-t 'ree ! 

I  s!pose  dat  w'at  she  say — '* skeeddoo" — 

Ees  alia  same  **I  lova  you." 

Ha!  w'at  you  theenk?    Now,  mebbe  so 

You  weell  no  calla  me  so  slow! 

T.  A.  Daly. 


Material  for  Interpretation  79 

MIA  CARLOTTA 

Giuseppe,  da  barber,  ees  greata  for  **mash/' 

He  gotta  da  bigga,  da  blacka  mustache, 

Good  clo'es  an'  good  styla  an'  playnta  good  cash. 

Wenevra  Giuseppe  ees  walk  on  da  street, 
Da  peopla  dey  talka,  *  *  How  nobby !  how  neat ! 
How  softa  da  handa,  how  smalla  da  feet." 

He  raisa  hees  hat  an'  he  shaka  hees  curls, 
An'  smila  weeth  teetha  so  shiny  like  pearls j 
O !  many  da  heart  of  da  seelly  young  girls 

He  gotta. 
Yes,  playnta  he  gotta — 

But  notta 

Carlotta! 

Giuseppe,  da  barber,  he  maka  da  eye, 

An'  lika  da  steam  engine  puffa  an'  sigh, 

For  catcha  Carlotta  w  'en  she  ees  go  by. 

Carlotta  she  walka  weeth  nose  in  da  air, 

An'  look  through  Giuseppe  weeth  far-away  stare, 

As  eef  she  no  see  dere  ees  som'body  dere. 

Giuseppe,  da  barber,  he  gotta  da  cash. 
He  gotta  da  clo'es  an'  da  bigga  mustache, 
He  gotta  da  seelly  young  girls  for  da  **mash,'' 
But  notta — 
You  bat  my  life,  notta — 
Carlotta. 
I  gotta  I 

T.  A,  Daly. 


80  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

DA  VERBA  LEETLA  BABY 

Irish  Padre  Tommeeckbride 
Laughed  an*  laughed  onteel  he  cried. 
Always  he  ees  do  dat  way 
At  mos'  evra  theeng  I  say. 
Ees  no  matter  w'at  I  spoke, 
He  would  tak'  eet  for  a  joke; 
Eet's  a  shame  to  tease  a  man 
Wen  he  do  da  best  he  can! 

Now,  for  eenstance,  yestaday 
Dere's  a  chrees'nin'  down  our  way; 
Eet's  baby  call'  '^Carlott' " 
Dat  my  cousin  Rosa's  got. 
0!  so  small,  jus'  two  weeks  old — 
Een  wan  handa  you  could  hold ! 
Wal,  I  am  da  wan  dat  stand 
For  dees  leetla  child,  my  frand — 
How  you  call  een  deesa  land  ? 
'^Godda-father?"    Yes,  dat's  me! 

Wal,  w'en  all  ees  done,  you  seC;, 
An'  da  child  ees  bapatize', 
Padre  Tommeeckbride,  he  cries: 
**Evrabody  com'  dees  way. 
"We  must  write  eet  down, ' '  he  say. 

While  he's  writin'  een  da  book, 
From  my  pocket  here  I  took 
Twenta-fi'-cent  piece,  my  fraud, 
An'  I  put  eet  een  heese  hand. 
** Thanks!"  he  say,  an  smiles  at  me. 
Den  Bianca  Baldi,  she — 


Material  for  Interpretation  81 

While  da  padre  looks  at  eet — 
Wheespers :    *  *  Dat  's  a  leetle  beet ! ' ' 
''Sure/'  I  tal  her,  **dat'sa  true, 
But  da  baby's  leetla,  too." 

Irish  Padre  Tommeeckbride 
Laughed  an'  laughed  onteell  he  cried. 
Always  he  ees  do  dat  way 
At  mos'  evratheeng  I  say; 
Eet's  a  shame  to  tease  a  man 
Wen  he  do  da  best  he  can ! 

T.  A.  Daly. 


DA  POSTA-CARD  FROM  NAPOLI 

So,  you  gon'  sail  for  Italy? 
Ah,  fine!— Wat  can  you  do  for  me? 
Oh,  notheeng,  please;  I  don'ta  care — 
I  weesh  you  joy  while  you  are  dere, 
An'  I'll  be  glad  for  see  you  w'en 
Da  sheep  ees  breeng  you  home  agen — 
Eh?    No!    Oh,  please  don't  sand  to  me 
No  peecture-card  from  Napoli! 

Oh,  yes,  wan  time  da  letter-man 
Breeng  soocha  card  to  deesa  stan'; 
Eet  was  from  gentleman  like  you 
Dat  wanted  to  be  kinda,  too. 
Eet  showed  da  town,  da  bay — ^but,  oh, 
I  deed  not  need;  so  wal  I  know! 
Ah,  no,  please  don'ta  sand  to  me 
No  peecture-card  from  Napoli. 


82  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Oh,  wal,  Signor,  you  are  so  kind, 

So  good  to  me,  I  would  no  mind 

Eef  you  would  send  me  wan  from  Kome. 

Eh  ?    Rome  ?    No,  dat  ees  not  my  home. 

Deed  I  not  joose  esplain  to  you 

I  weell  no  care  w'at  else  you  do 

So  long  you  don'ta  sand  to  me 

No  peecture-card  from  Napoli? 

T.  A.  Daly. 

AN  ITALIAN'S  VIEWS  ON  THE  LABOR  QUESTION 

One  man  looka  at  da  labor  quest'  one  way,  'noder  man 
looka  'noder  way.    I  looka  deesa  way : 

Longa  time  ago  I  gitta  born  in  Italia.  Pret'  queck  I 
gitta  big  'nough  to  know  mya  dad.  I  find  him  one  worka 
man.  Him  worka  hard  in  da  hotta  sun — sweat  like  da 
wetta  rag  to  maka  da  'nough  mon'  to  gitta  da  grub.  Mya 
moth'  worka  too — work  lika  da  dog.  Dey  make  alia  da 
kids  work — ^mea  too.  Dat  maka  me  tired.  I  see  da  king, 
da  queen,  and  da  richa  peop'  driva  by  in  da  swella  style. 
It  maka  me  sick.  I  say,  *'Da  world  alia  wrong.  Da  rich 
have  too  mueha  mon ',  too  mucha  sof ta  snap.  Da  poor  have 
too  mucha  work,  too  mucha  dirt,  too  mucha  tougha  luck." 

Dat  maka  me  one  dago  anarchista.  I  hear  'bout  America, 
da  freea  countra,  where  da  worka  man  eata  da  minca  pie 
an '  da  roasa  beef. 

I  taka  da  skip — take  da  ship — sail  ova  da  wat' — reacha 
Newa  York. 

Va !  It  reminds  me  of  Naples — ^beautifula  bay,  blue  sky, 
da  plenty  lazaroni  and  mucha  dirta  streets. 

I  looka  'r-round  for  da  easy  job.  It  noa  go.  Da  easy 
jobs  alia  gone. 


Material  for  Interpretation  85 

It  mora  work  to  gitta  da  work  dan  da  work  itself.  I 
gitta  down  on  da  richa  peop'  more  anda  more  alia  da  time. 
Geea  Whiz!    Dat  freea  eountra  maka  me  sick! 

Well,  aft'  while  I  strika  da  job — pounda  da  stone  on  da 
railroad.  It  neer  keela,  but  I  eata  da  ver'  lit'  grub,  weara 
da  olda  clothes,  and  socka  da  mon'  in  mya  sock  eacha 
day.    I  learna  da  one  thing — da  mon'  maka  da  mare  go. 

I  catcha  da  spirit  of  a  da  town:  I  maka  what  you  calla 
da  progress.  I  find  da  man  what  maka  da  mon'  nev'  do 
da  harda  work.  I  quit.  I  buya  da.buncha  bana',  putta  da 
banan'  ina  da  bask  ona  my  arm,  sella  him  ona  da  street. 
Hulla  Gee!     I  maka  da  twenty-fi'  cent  a  day  clear. 

Ver'  soon  I  have  da  gr-rata  lotta  mon'.  I  buya  one 
handa  org';  maka  da  mus',  playa  Ta-ra-ra  Boom  all  over 
da  country;  maka  mor'  mon';  den  I  buy  Jocka  da  monk'. 
Da  monk'  is  lika  da  business  man — ver'  smart.  I  maka 
him  my  cashier.  Him  passa  da  contribution  box  like  da 
deacon  in  da  church.    Him  maka  da  face,  him  dance. 

Da  biz  grow.  We  sella  da  hand  org' — ^buy  one  streeta 
piano.  I  hira  one  'sistant.  Da  'sistant  pusha  da  piano,  I 
grinda  da  crank,  da  monk'  taka  da  mon'. 

We  gitta  da  ver'  wella  off.  I  gitta  mar-r-red.  Buya  me 
one  home,  sweeta  home. 

I  investa  ma  mon' — ^buya  da  fruita  stands  on  da  side- 
walk— hire  da  cheapa  dago  chumps  to  runna  da  stands. 

Da  labor  quest'  Ver'  simp' — ver'  plain.  When  1  poor 
I  say: — **Shoota  da  monopola!  Keela  da  richa  man!" 
Alia  da  same  when  you  in  Roma  do  lika  da  Roma  peop '. 

Now  I  one  r-richa  man.  I  weara  da  fine  clothes — picks 
my  teeth  with  da  golda  pick — weara  da  diamond  stud — 
driva  ma  team — and  snappa  ma  fingers. 

It  maka  alia  da  dif  in  da  world  which  side  da  fence 
you  stana  on.  Joe  Kerr, 


84  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 


DESCENDED  FROM  CHRISTOPH'  COLOMB'  " 

I  AM-A  one  Ital-i-an 
People  eall-a  me  Da-go-man; 
I  lik-a  live  U-ni-ted  State, 
Mak-a  heap  o*  mon-a  any  rate; 
Smok-a  vera  cheap-a  ciga-ret, 
Eat-t  macaroni  an'  spaget' 
I  am-a  descended  from 
Christoph'  ColombM 

I  bring-a  dis-a  leetal  monk 
Ovair  in  dis-a  leetal  trunk; 
Though-a  vera  homely  one, 
He  help-a  me  mak-a  da  mon' 
Irish  man  he  call-a  me, 
Da  leetal  monkey  pedigree; 
Call-a  da  monk  ancestor  from 
Christoph'  Colomb'! 

I  drag  piano  through  de  town ; 
People  throw  me  da  nickel  down ; 
I  mak-a  vera  sweet-a  bow 
To  servant  gal,  she  mak-a  row; 
Call-a  me  da  piano  horse ! 
Say  pian'  so  old,  o'  course 
It  was-a  descended  from 
Christoph'  Colomb'! 

Beeg-a  fool  come  evair  day, 
Ask-a  where  I  learn  to  play ; 
Tell-a  me  I  must-a  be 
Great-a  lik-a  Pad-a-ru-si-kee ! 


Material  for  Interpretation  84 

Small  boy  mak-a  bad-a  face ; 
Call-a  me  dat-a  stumpy  race — 
Mis-fit-a  descended  from 
Christoph'  Colomb'! 

Cable  car  he  bump-a  me, 
Police-a-man  he  thump-a  me, 
Truck-a-man  upset-a  me, 
Sprinkle-a-man  he  wet-a  me, 
Fire-a-engine  come-a  dash, 
Break  da  organ  all-a  smash ! 
Kill  da  monk  descended  from 
Christoph'  Colomb'! 

Fred  Emerson  Brooks. 


SECTION  vm 

NEGEO 


SECTION  VIII 

NEGRO 

(See  also  *' Modern  Literature  for  Oral  Interpretation/' 
Johnson,  page  152,  prose.) 

IN  THE  MORNING 

*LiAS !     'Lias !    Bless  de  Lawd ! 
Don'  you  know  de  day's  erbroad? 
Ef  you  don'  git  up,  you  scamp, 
Dey'U  be  trouble  in  dis  camp. 
T  'ink  I  gwine  to  let  you  slee^ 
Wile  I  meks  yo'  boa'd  an'  keep? 
Dat's  a  putty  howdy-do — 
Don'  you  hyeah  me,  'Lias — ^you? 

Bet  ef  I  come  crost  dis  flo' 
You  won'  fin'  no  time  to  sno'. 
Daylight  all  a-shinin'  in 
Wile  you  sleep — ^w'y  hit's  a  sin! 
Ain't  de  can'le-light  enough 
To  bu'n  out  widout  a  snuff, 
But  you  go  de  mo'nin'  thoo 
Bu'nin'  up  de  daylight  too? 

'Lias,  don'  you  hyeah  me  call? 
No  use  tu'nin'  to'ds  de  wall; 
I  kin  hyeah  dat  mattus  squeak; 
Don'  you  hyeah  me  w'en  I  speak? 


90  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Dis  hyeah  clock  done  struck  off  six — 
Ca'line,  bring  me  dem  ah  sticks! 
Oh,  you  down,  suh;  huh!  you  down- 
Look  hyeah,  don'  you  daih  to  frown. 

Ma'ch  yo'se'f  an'  wash  yo  face, 
Don '  you  splattah  all  de  place ; 
I  got  somep'n  else  to  do, 
'Sides  jes'  cleanin'  aft  ah  you. 
Tek  dat  comb  an'  fix  yo'  haid — 
Looks  jes  lak  a  feddah  baid. 
Look  hyeah,  boy,  I  let  you  see 
You  sha'n't  roll  yo'  eyes  at  me. 

Come  hyeah ;  bring  me  dat  ah  strap ! 
Boy,  I  '11  whup  you  'twell  you  drap ; 
You  done  felt  yo  'se  'f  too  strong. 
An'  you  sholy  got  me  wrong 
Set  down  at  dat  table  thaih ; 
Jes'  you  whimpay  ef  you  daih! 
Evah  mo'nin'  on  dis  place. 
Seem  lak  I  mus'  lose  my  grace. 

Fol'  yo'  ban's  an'  bow  yo'  haid — 
Wait  ontweel  de  blessin '  's  said ; 
*'Lawd,  have  mussy  on  ouah  souls — " 
(Don'  you  daih  to  tech  dem  rolls — ) 
'*  Bless  de  food  we  gwine  to  eat — " 
(You  set  still — I  see  yo '  feet ; 
You  jus'  try  dat  trick  agin !) 
'*Gin  us  peace  an'  joy.    Amen!" 

Paul  Laurence  Dunbar, 


Material  for  Interpretation  9l 

DB  CIRCUS  TURKEY 

He's  de  worst  I  evah  see, 

Dat  ole  turkey  up  'n  de  tree ; 
I  bin  pesta'n  him  'n'  punchin'  him  sainee  mohnin'. 

I  nev',  sainee  I  was  bo'n, 

See  de  way  he  do  stick  on, 
En  he  'pears  to  look  down  at  me  's  if  he  scornin'. 

He  doesn't  seem  to  'pear 

Ter  hab  a  bit  ob  fear, 
Kase  I'se  wasted  all  mah  strength    'n'  bref  upon    'im. 

It  may  be  he's  in  fun. 

But  I'll  scab  'im  wid  dis  gun, 
I'se  boun'  ter  git  'im  down  some  way,  dog  on  'im. 

I'se  fro'd  mos'  all  de  sticks 

In  de  yard,  'n'  all  de  bricks; 
Ef  yo'  was  me,  whut  under  d'  sun  'ud  yo'  do? 

He  doesn't  seem  ter  change, 

'N'  'pears  ter  act  so  strange, 
I  d'clar  he  mus'  be  pestah'd  wid  a  hoodoo. 

I  tale  yo'  hit's  er  fac', 

I  nearly  broke  mah  back 
Er  histin'  shoes  'n'  brickbats  up  dar  to  'im. 

'Pon  dis  Tanksgibbin'  day, 

I  hate  ter  shoot,  but  say — 
I  b'leeve  a  gun's  de  only  thing '11  do  'im! 

I  'low  I'll  make  'im  think 
He  kain't  gib  me  de  wink 
An'  sait  upon  dat  limb  en  be  secuah. 


92  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Biff!     Bang!     I'll  make   'im  sing; 
Mah  goodness,  watch   'im  swing! 
Wy,  he's  a  reg'lah  circus  turkey,  suah. 

Hi  see  de  hull  thing  now — 

Das  Rasmus  boy,  I  'low, 
Has  done  gone  tied   'is  feet  up  dar  wid  strings. 

No  wonday  dat  he  tried 

Ter  come  off;  he  was  tied, 
'N'  all  what  he  could  do  was  flap  'is  wings. 

Come  hyar,  yo'  Rasmus,  quick,  sah! 

I'se  min'  ter  use  dis  stick,  sah! 
Come  hyar,  from  ovar  dar,  from  whar  yo'  stood. 

I  'low  I  ought  to  lay  yo' 

Down  on  dat  groun'  en  flay  yo'; 
I'se  tempted  mos'  ter  use  a  stick  o'  wood. 

Yo'  kain't  go  to  de  meetin' 

An'  w'en  it  comes  ter  eatin', 
Yo'  mudder  sais  yo'  kain't  come  to  de  table. 

I  bet  you'll  sing  er  tune, 

Kase  all  dis  aftahnoon 
We's  'cided  dat  we'll  lock  yo'  in  de  stable. 

Yo'  kain't  hab  none  de  white  meat, 

An'  yo'  kain't  hab  none  de  brown  meat. 
An'  yo'  jes'  hearn  whut  yer  po'  ole  mudder  sade; 

Yo'  kain't  hab  none  de  stuffin', 

Er  de  cranber'  sauce  er  nuffin'. 
An'  'cisely  at  six  o'clock  yo'  go  ter  baid. 

Ben  King. 


Material  for  Interpretation  93 


WARM  BABIES  * 

Shadrach,  Meshach,  Abednego, 

Walked  in  the  furnace  to  an'  fro, 

Hay  foot,  straw  foot,  fro  an'  to, 

An'  the  flame  an'  the  smoke  flared  up  the  flue. 

Nebuchadnezzar  he  listen  some, 

An'  he  hear  'em  talk,  an'  he  say  **How  come?'* 

An'  he  hear  'em  walk,  an'  he  say  **How  so? 

Dem  babes  was  hawg  tied  an  hour  ago !" 

Then  Shadrach  call,  in  an  uppity  way, 
**A  little  more  heat  or  we  ain't  gwine  stay  I" 
An'  Meshach  bawl,  so  dat  furnace  shake: 
**Lan'lawd,  heat!  fo'  de  good  Lawd's  sake!'* 
Abednego  yell,  wid  a  loud  ^'Kerchoo!" 
"Is  you  out  to  freeze  us,  y'  great  big  Jew!" 
Nebuchadnezzar,  he  rare  an'  ramp, 
An'  call  to  his  janitor,  **  You  big  black  scamp ! 
Shake  them  clinkers  an'  spend  dat  coal! 
I'll  bake  dem  birds,  ef  I  goes  in  de  hole !" 

He  puts  on  de  draf  an'  he  shuts  de  door 

So  de  furnace  glow  an'  de  chimbly  roar. 

or  Nebuchadnezzar,  he  smole  a  smile. 

' '  Guess  dat  '11  hold  'em, ' '  says  he,  *  *  one  while. ' ' 

Then  Shadrach,  Meshach,  Abednego 

Walk  on  de  hot  coals  to  an'  fro. 

Gulp  dem  hot  cinders  like  chicken  meat 

An'  holler  out  fo'  a  mite  mo'  heat. 

« 

•  From  "Splinters,"  published  by  George  H.   Doran   Company,  and  re- 
printed by  permission  of  the  author. 


94  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

or  Nebuchadnezzar  gives  up  de  fight; 
He  open  dat  door  an'  he  bow  perlite. 
He  shade  his  eyes  from  the  glare  infernal 
An'  say  to  Abednego,  *^Step  out,  Colonel." 
An'  he  say,  ''Massa  Shadrach,  I  hopes  you  all 
Won'  be  huffy  at  me  at  all." 

Then  Shadrach,  Meshach,  Abednego, 
Hay  foot,  straw  foot,  three  in  a  row. 
Stepped  right  smart  from  dat  oven  door, 
Jes'  as  good  as  they  wuz  before, 
An'  far  as  Nebuchadnezzar  cud  find, 
Jes'  as  good  as  they  wuz  behind. 

— Keith  Preston, 


OL'  JOSHWAY  AN'  DE  SUN 

Ol'  Josh  way  stood  in  front  er  his  tent, 

An'  sicc'd  his  soldiers  on, 
But  when  he  turned  fer  ter  look  aroun', 

De  day  wuz  nearly  gone. 
He  rubbed  his  beard,  he  scratched  his  head, 

An'  kicked  his  heel  in  de  groun'; 
Kaze  he  wanter  finish  de  battle- job 

Befo'  de  Sun  went  down. 


Material  for  Interpretation  95 

He  look  ter  de  East  an'  he  look  ter  de  "West, 

An '  he  wave  his  han '  on  high, 
"King  Sun,"  sezee,  ''I  want  you  ter  see 

Me  smite  um  hip  an'  thigh! 
Come  down  ter  camp  an'  rest  you'se'f 

A  little  while  wid  me, 
I'll  git  you  a  fan  an'  big  wide  cheer 

An'  set  it  whar  you  kin  see." 

Dey  wuz  lots  mo'  talk,  but  de  Sun  come  dowD 

An '  tuck  a  little  ease, 
An'  when  he  got  too  awful  hot, 

He  called  up  ol'  Brer  Breeze! 
**My  time  is  short,"  sez  de  Sun,  sezee, 

'*An'  you  better  do  yo'  do, 
Kaze  I'm  feelin'  like  I  wanter  see 

Dis  mortual  scuffle  throo!" 

Well,  dey  fit  an'  fit  an'  fowt  an'  fowt 

Right  dar  in  de  light  er  de  Sun, 
But  Josh  way  f  railed  um  out  an'  soon 

He  had  um  on  de  run. 
King  Sun,  he  say,  ''I'm  over  due 

'Cross  dar  whar  de  night's  still  black; 
De  folks  will  wake  'fo'  de  chickens  crow 

An'  put  der  big  clocks  back." 

01'  Josh  way  thanked  him  mighty  polite, 

An'  ax  him  fer  ter  come  ag'in; 
King  Sun,  he  say,  ''I  speck  dat  I 

Will  be  whar  I've  allers  been." 
Den  he  mosied  off,  kaze  he  ain't  got  time 

Fer  ter  set  an'  talk  an'  stay; 
He  hatter  go  off  whar  de  night  still  dark 

An'  start  ter  breakin'  day. 


96  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Well,  time  run  on  an'  people  'spute 

'Bout  Joshway  an'  de  Sun, 
Some  say  dis  an'  some  say  dat 

An'  splain  why  Joshway  won; 
Sometimes  when  he  wuz  settin'  'roun' 

Whar  he  couldn't  he'p  but  hear 
He'd  say,  *'Go  in  de  settin '-room  an'  see 

How  he  scorched  my  big  armcheer!" 

— Joel  Chandler  Harris, 


AUNT  AMITY'S  SILVER  WEDDING 

It  was  the  great  silver  wedding  at  Judge  Stanley's  that  put  the 
idea  into  Aunt  Amity's  head.  She  was  one  of  the  Stanleys'  former 
slaves.  She  lived  with  her  husband,  Frank  the  fiddler,  on  a  place 
some  miles  up  the  river.  She  had  always  been  a  woman  of  initiative 
and  of  strong  social  following  and  when  she  proclaimed  that  she  and 
Frank  were  to  have  a  silver  wedding  they  immediately  came  into  a 
new  prestige.  Amity  was  young  for  her  age,  looked  thirty-three, 
and  could  not  have  been  much  over  forty.  She  moved  with  the 
alacrity  of  youth,  and  her  laugh  was  as  care-free  as  a  child's.  She 
was  rather  stout  and  was  wont  to  say  of  herself,  "Nobody,  to  see 
dat  wide  shadder,  would  take  me  for  de  light  dancer  I  is."  When 
she  sought  her  friend,  the  mistress  of  Sugarsweet  Plantation,  to  enlist 
her  interest  and  a  little  assistance,  that  lady  allowed  Amity  to  tell 
her  all  about  it,  and  succeeded  in  controlling  her  features  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  recital.) 

**C^ose  I  knows  silver  things  is  expensive,  an'  so  is  fine 
suppers  expensive  an'  I  ain'  gwine  give  no  scrub  ban-quet. 
Dey  ain't  nobody  but  can  affo'd  to  fetch  some  little  silver 
piece,  such,  as,  well,  mostly  dimes  an'  two-bitses  an'  maybe 
fif ty-centses ;  an'  it  mought  be  dat  a  few  would  drap  us 
a  dollar.  I  done  give  out  dat  I  ain 't  gwine  stint  de  supper. 
I  '11  have  every  kind  o '  cake  dey  is — an '  fried  chicken — an ' 
chicken-pie — an'  chicken  fricassee — an'  chicken-salad — an' 
chick — I  mean  to  say,  an'  swimp  gumbo  an'  beat  biscuit, 
an' — swimps  is  comin'  in  thick  in  the  river  now. 


Material  for  Interpretation  97 

**In  c'ose  ef  you  was  studyin'  about  white  weddin's, 
Missy,  dat's  a  white  horse  of  another  color.  Eh,  Lord! 
How  many  th'ough  an'  th'ough  silver  soup-ladles  an' 
tea-sets  you  reckon  I  'd  git,  ei  I  expected  'em  ?  No,  honey ; 
dis  here's  gwine  be  jes  a  done-over  ole  breakdown  weddin', 
wid  a'  overdone  brokedown  bride  an'  groom.  But  we 
can't  be  no  younger  'n  we  is,  an'  hit's  now  or  never. 

''An'  so — is  you  got  air  ole  bride's  veil  lift  over  f'om 
past  times — or  wreath — or  anything  flimsy  an'  white, 
please,  ma'am — to  set  off  dis  ole  secon'-han'  bride?  An' 
maybe  one  o'  Marse  Honore's  white  waist-coats  for  Frank 
— anything,  so  it's  white,  for  bofe  of  us — so's  we  won't 
shame  de  ban-quet.  I  don't  crave  to  disgrace  de  feast  wid 
onproper  weddin  '-gyarmints. 

'*An'  maybe  somebody  mought  affo'd  a  silver  weddin '- 
ring  for  me, — I  ain'  nuver  had  no  ring, — or  no  silver 
thimble,  nuther.  I  sho'  does  hope  dey'U  fetch  in  a  few 
showy  plush-box  deviltries,  even  ef  de  silver  on  'em  '11  melt 
whilst  you  looks  at  it. 

**I  had  a  silver-plated  soup-dipper,  once-t.  I  got  it  for  a 
tea-prize.  I  nuver  drinks  no  tea.  I  buys  it  jes  for  de  prize 
cowpons —  an'  trades  it  back  in  de  sto'e  for  tobacco. 

**But  dat  prize  dipper  sho'  did  look  dazzlin'  when  it 
come,  reposin'  in  dat  plush-tufted  box.  I  cert 'in 'y  was 
tickled!  But  one  day  I  dipped  out  some  lye-hominy  wid 
it,  an'  it  must  'a'  slid  down  in  de  pot  an'  b'iled  all  day. 
I  tell  yer.  Missy,  hit  went  in  white  but  it  come  out  a  good 
mulatter-color. 

** Frank  say  de  silver  all  subsided  into  de  hominy  an' 
we-all  e't  it  up,  so  we's  silver-coated  inside  ef  we  is  copper- 
plated  on  de  outside. 

**But  I  sho'  does  wusht  I  had  it  now,  in  all  its  plush 
glory  for  de  weddin'. 


98  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

*'It  'd  be  a  fine  side-boa 'd  piece — ef  I  had  a  side-boa 'd. 

"You  can^t  have  but  one  silver  weddin'  in  a  lifetime, 
an'  I  wants  to  have  it  racklass,  whilst  I  'm  a-havin' !  Even 
ef  you  stays  heah  long  enough  to  have  two,  dey  say  de 
silver  turns  to  gold,  an'  Gord  knows  what  a  po'  ole  nigger 
resurrected  bride  would  do  for  gold  presents — ^less'n  luck 
changes ! 

''But  maybe,  seein'  it's  silver,  somebody  mought  ri- 
comember  to  buy  me  a  thimble — or  a  breastpin.  Ole 
Hannah,  de  Williamson's  cook,  she  got  a  lovely  brooch,  a 
silver  fryin'-pan.  It  makes  you  hongry  to  look  at  it.  Ef 
somebody  only  thought  enough  o'  me — an'  then  o'  c'ose 
der  is  Frank.  But  Frank  ain't  got  no  title  to  none  o'  dese 
silver  presents.    Not  Frank! 

"Oh,  yas  'm;  of  co'se  he  's  my  chu'ch  husban'  all  right, 
hut  not  dat  kushan'l  Yer  know  what  become  of  my  firs' 
husban',  Solon,  don'  yer,  missy?  A  triflin'  yaller  gal  stole 
'im  f'om  me.  Dat's  what  become  of  'im;  an'  I  don't 
begrudge  'im  to  her.  But  as  to  whar  he  is,  Gord  knows, 
honey.  Livin'  or  dead,  he  's  all  one  to  me  now.  Last  time 
I  heerd  tell  of  'im,  he  was  waitin'  on  Frank's  sister,  down 
in  Freetown.  He  mought  be  my  brother-in-law  by  now, 
for  all  1  know. 

"So  I  means  to  say  what  I  say.  I  ain't  been  married 
to  Frank  Stillwater  on'y  jes  about  five  yeahs.  An'  I  been 
studyin'  about  dat,  too,  and  dat  's  one  o'  de  p'ints  I  comb 
to  insult  you  about.  Sence  Frank  is  been  married  five 
yeahs,  I  don't  see  why  he  can't  draw  for  a  wood  weddin'. 
Dey  tell  me  five  yeahs  o'  marri'ge  is  de  wooden  anniver- 
sary, an'  dat's  de  easiest  weddin'  dey  could  give  on  a 
plantation,  a  wooden  one  is. 

"Yas'm;  an'  jes  plain  woodi  What  's  de  matter  wid  a 
load  o'  fire  wood  or  fat  pine  for  kindlin'?    Frank  would 


Material  for  Interpretation  99 

oe  glad  to  git  anything,  f 'om  a  box  o'  matches  to  a  hen- 
coop ;  an '  he  gwine  fiddle  for  'em  free,  anyhow. 

''But  heah  I'm  gwine  on  an'  forgittin'  all  about  the 
bridal  veil !  Is  you  got  any  ole  lace  left-overs,  Missy,  dat 
I  mought  wear  for  a  veil?  I'll  do  it  up  keerful  an'  fetch 
it  back,  yes  'm." 

Ruth  McEnery  Stuart, 
Arranged  by  Gertrude  E.  Johnson. 


THEOLOGY  IN  THE  QUARTERS 

Now,  I  's  got  a  notion  in  my  head  dat  when  you  come  to  die, 

An'  Stan'  de  'zamination  in  de  Cote-house  in  de  sky. 

You  '11  be  'stonished  at  de  questions  dat  de  angel  's  gwine 

to  ax 
When  he  gits  you  on  de  witness-stan'  an'  pins  you  to  de 

f  ac  's ; 
'Cause  he  '11  ax  you  mighty  closely  'bout  your  doin's  in  de 

night, 
An'  de  water-million  question  's  gwine  to  bodder  you  a 

sight ! 
Den  your  eyes  '11  open  wider  dan  dey  ebber  done  befo', 
When  he  chats  you  'bout  a  chicken  scrape  dat  happened 

long  ago ! 

De  angels  on  de  picket-line  erlong  de  milky  Way 

Keeps  a-watchin'  what  you  're  drib  in'  at,  an'  hearin'  what 

you  say; 
No  matter  what  you  want  to  do,  no  matter  whar  you  's 

gwine, 
Dey  's  mighty  ap'  to  find  it  out  an'  pass  it  'long  de  line ; 
And  of 'en  at  de  meetin',  when  you  make  a  fuss  an'  laugh, 
Why,  dey  send  de  news  a-kitin'  by  de  golden  telegraph; 


100  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Den  de  angel  in  de  orfis,  what  's  a-settin'  by  de  gate, 
Jes'  reads  de  message  wid  a  look  an'  claps  it  on  de  slate! 

Den  you  better  do  your  duty  well  an'  keep  your  conscience 

clear, 
An'  keep  a-lookin'  straight  ahead  an'  watchin'  whar  you 

steer ; 
'Cause  arter  while  de  time  '11  come  to  journey  fum  de  Ian*, 
And  dey  '11  take  you  way  up  in  de  a'r  an'  put  you  on  de 

Stan ' ; 
Den  you  '11  hab  to  listen  to  de  clerk,  an"*  answer  mighty 

straight, 
Ef  you  ebber  'spec '  to  trabble  f roo  de  alaplaster  gate ! 

John  Alfred  Macon. 


DE  NAMIN'  OB  DE  TWINS 

What  I  gwine  name  mah  Ceely's  twins? 
I  dunno,  honey,  yit, 
But  I  is  jes  er-waitin'  fer  de  fines'  I  kin  git. 
De  names  is  putty  nigh  run  out, 
So  many  niggahs  heah, 
I  'clar'  dey  's  t'ick  as  cotton-bolls  in  pickin'-time  o'  yeah. 

But  't  ain'  no  use  to  'pose  to  me 
Ole  commonary  names 
La'  ^Lizsib eth  an'  Josephine,  or  Caesah,  Torm,  an'  James, 
'Ca'se  dese  heah  twinses  ob  mah  gal's 
Is  sech  a  diff'ent  kine, 
Dey  's  'titled  to  de  grandes'  names  dat  ary  one  kin  fin'/ 
Fer  sho  dese  little  shiny  brats 
Is  got  de  f  us '-cut  look, 


Material  for  Interpretation  101 

So  mammy  wants  fine  city  names  lak'  you  gits  out  a  book. 
I  ax  Marse  Rob,  an'  he  done  say 
Some  'rageous  stuff  lak'  dis: 
He  'd  call  de  bruddah  Be'lze&i^&,  de  sistah  Genesis; 

Or  Alphy  an'  Omegy — de 
Beginnin'  an'  de  en'. 
But  den,  ob  co'se  no  man  kin  tell  what  mo'  de  Lawd  '11 
sen'; 
Fer  de  pappy  ob  dese  orphuns — 
You  heah  me' — I'll  be  boun', 
While  dey  's  er-crawlin'   on  de  flo',  he  '11  be  er-lookin' 
roun ' ; 

'Ca  'se  I  done  seen  dem  Judas  teahs 
He  drap  at  Ceely's  grabe, 
A-peepin'  'hin'  his  han'kercher  at  ol'  Tim's  yaller  Gabe, 
A-mekin'  out  to  moan  an'  groan 
Lak'  he  was  gwine  'o  bus'. 
Lawd,  honey,  dem  at  howls  de  mos'  gits  ober  it  de  fus'. 

Annynias  an'  Saphiry, 
Sis  Tab  done  say  to  me. 
But  he  'p  me,  Lawd !  what  do  she  'spec '  dese  chillun  gwine 
to  be? 
'Sides,  dem  names   's  got  er  cur 'us  soun'. 
You  says  I  's  hard  to  please? 
Well  so  'ould  any  granny  be,  wid  sech  a  pa  V  as  dese. 

Ole  Pahson  Bob  he  'low  dat  I 

Will  suttinly  be  sinnin' 
Onless  I  gibs  'em  names  dat  starts  'em  right  in  de  beginnin*. 
**Iwilla"  fer  de  gal,  he  say, 

F'om  de  wo'd  **I  will  a-rise,'* 


102  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

An'  dat  *ould  show  she's  startin'  up  todes  glory  in  de  skies ; 

An'  fer  dis  man  chil'  Aberham, — 
De  fardah  ob  'em  all, — 
Er  else  Belshazzah,  who  done  writ  dat  writin'  on  de  wall. 
But  Pahson  Bob — axeuse  me,  Lawd! — 
He  bettah  sabe  his  bref 
To  preach  de  gospel,  an'  jes  keep  his  'visin'  to  hisse'f ; 

Fer  nary  pusson,  white  nor  black, 
Ain'  gib  no  p'ints  to  me 
'Bout  namin'  dese  heah  Chris 'mus  gif 's  asleep  on  granny's 
knee 
Now  heshaby — don'  squirm  an'  twis'; 
Be  still,  you  varmints,  do ! 
You  ain'  gwine  hab  no  niggah  names  to  tote  aroun'  wid 

you!), 

'Cause  on  de  questiom  ob  dese  names 
I  sho  is  hed  mah  min' 
Perzactly  an'  percidedly  done  med  up  all  de  time; 
Fer  mah  po'  Ceely  Ann — yas,  Lawd, 
Jes  nigh  afo'  she  died. 
She  name'  dis  gal  *  *  Neu-ral-gia, "  ^  her  boy  twin  **Hom-i- 
cide"!^ 

Mary  Fairfax  Childs. 

•These  names  were  actually  given  to  two  children. 


WHY  THE  GUINEAS  STAY  AWAKE 

**One  time  'way  long  back  yander  dem  guineas  wuz  des 
ez  drowsy  w'en  night  come  ez  any  er  de  yuther  folks. 
Dey  'd  go  ter  roos',  dey  would,  en  dey  'd  drap  off  ter 
sleep  time  der  head  totch  de  piller. 


Material  for  Interpretation  103 

*'In  dem  days  dey  could  'a'  had  pillers  ef  dey'd  a-wanted 
um,  en  bolsters,  too,  fer  dat  matter,  en  likewise  fedder- 
beds,  kaze  dey  would  n't  'a'  had  ter  go  no  fur  ways  fer  de 
fedders. 

'*But  ne'er  mind  'bout  dat;  no  sooner  did  dey  git  up 
on  de  roos'  dan  dey  drap  off  ter  sleep,  en  dey  kep'  on  dat 
away  twel  bimeby  one  time  Brer  Fox  made  up  he  min' 
dat  he  better  be  kinder  sociable  en  pay  um  a  call  atter  dey 
done  gone  ter  bed. 

*'Dar  wuz  times  w'en  Brer  Fox  tuck  a  notion  fer  ter 
walk  'bout  in  de  daytime,  but  mos'  allers  inginer'lly  he 
done  he  pomernadin'  'twix'  sundown  en  sun-up.  I  dunner 
w'at  time  er  night  hit  wuz  w'en  Brer  Fox  call  on  de 
guineas,  but  I  speck  't  wuz  long  todes  de  shank  er  de 
evenin',  ez  you  may  say. 

**Yit,  soon  er  late,  w'en  he  got  ter  whar  de  guineas  live 
at,  he  foun'  um  all  soun'  asleep.  Now,  some  folks  w'en 
dey  go  anywhars  fer  ter  make  deyse'f  sociable,  en  fin' 
eve'ybody  fas'  asleep,  would  'a'  tu'n  'roun'  en  made  der 
way  back  home ;  but  Brer  Fox  ain't  dat  kind  er  man.  Dem 
guineas  roos'  so  low  en  dey  look  so  fine  en  fat  dat  it  make 
Brer  Fox  feel  like  dey  wuz  his  fus'  cousin. 

"He  sot  down  on  his  hunkers,  Brer  Fox  did,  en  he  look 
at  um  en  grin.    Den  he  'low  ter  hisse'f : 

"  *I  '1  des  shake  ban's  wid  one  un  um  en  den  I  '11  go.' 

"Well,  Brer  Fox  went  up  an  shuck  ban's  wid  one  un 
um,  en  he  must  'a'  squoze  mighty  hard,  kaze  de  guinea 
make  a  mighty  flutterment;  en  he  mus'  'a'  heldt  on  wid  a 
mighty  tight  grip,  kaze  w'en  he  tuck  off  his  hat  en  bowed 
good-by  de  guinea  went  'long  wid  'im. 

* '  Well,  suh,  you  never  is  year  tell  er  sech,  a  racket  ez 
dem  guineas  kicked  up  w  'en  dey  'skiver  dat  Brer  Fox  done 
make  off  wid  one  un  um.    Dey  squall  en  dey  squall  twel 


104  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

dey  rousted  up  de  whole  neighborhoods.  De  dogs  got  ter 
barkin*,  de  owls  got  ter  hootin',  de  bosses  got  ter  kickin', 
de  cows  got  ter  lowin',  en  de  chickens  got  ter  crowin'. 

**En  mo*  dan  dat,  de  guineas  wuz  dat  skeered  dat  dey 
tu'n  right  pale  on  de  neck  en  on  de  gills,  en  ef  you  don't 
b  'lieve  me  you  kin  go  up  dar  in  de  gyarden  en  look  at  um 
fer  yo'se'f. 

**En  mo*  dan  dat,  dey  got  skeered  so  bad  dat  from  dat 
day  ter  dis  dey  don't  sleep  soun'  at  night.  Dey  may  squat 
'roun*  in  de  shade  en  nod  in  de  daytime,  dough  I  ain't 
kotch  um  at  it,  en  dey  may  sort  er  nod  atter  dey  go  ter 
roos'  at  night;  but  ef  a  betsey  bug  flies  by  um,  er  yit  ef 
a  sparrer  flutters  in  de  bushes,  dey  er  wide  awake;  dey 
mos'  sholy  is." 

Jael  Chandler  Harris. 
Arranged  by  Gertrude  E.  Johnson 


THE  DANCE 

Git  yo'  pardners,  fust  kwattilion! 
Stomp  yo'  feet  an'  raise  'em  high; 
Tune  is:  ''Oh!  dat  water-million! 
Gwine  to  git  to  home  bime-bye. ' ' 
Salute  yo*  pardners! — ^scrape  perlitely- 
Don't  be  bumpin'  gin  de  res' — 
Balance  all! — now,  step  out  rightly; 
Alluz  dance  yo'  lebel  bes'. 
Fo'wa'd  foah! — ^whoop  up,  niggers ! 
Back  ag'in! — don't  be  so  slow! — 
Swing  cornahs! — min'  de  figgers! 
When  I  hollers,  den  yo'  go. 
Top  ladies  cross  ober! 


Material  for  Interpretation  105 

KoV  on,  till  I  takes  a  dram — 

Gemmen  solo! — yes,  I  's  sober — 

Cain 't  say  how  de  fiddle  am. 

Hands  around! — hoi*  up  yo'  faces, 

Don't  be  lookin'  at  yo'  feet! 

Sluing  yo*  pardners  to  yo'  places! 

Dat  's  de  way — dat  's  hard  to  beat. 

Sides  for'w'd! — when  you  's  ready — 

Make  a  bow  as  low  's  you  kin ! 

Swing  acrost  wid  opposite  lady! 

Now  we'll  let  you  swap  ag'in: 

Ladies  change! — shet  up  dat  talkin'; 

Do  yo '  talkin '  arter  while ! 

Eight  and  lef! — don't  want  no  walkin* — 

Make  yo'  steps,  an'  show  yo'  style! 

Irwin  BiLsselL 

*'DBY  AIN'T  NO  GHOSTS'' 

Once  'pon  a  time  dey  was  a  li  '1 '  black  boy  whut  he  name 
was  Mose.  An'  whin  he  come  erlong  to  be  'bout  knee- 
high  to  a  mewel,  he  'gin  to  git  powerful  'fraid  ob  ghosts, 
'ca'se  dat  am  sure  a  mighty  ghostly  location  whut  he  lib' 
in,  'ca'se  dey  's  a  grabeyard  in  de  hollow,  an'  a  buryin'- 
ground  on  de  hill,  an'  a  cemuntary  in  betwixt  an'  between, 
an'  dey  ain't  nufifin'  but  trees  nowhar  excipt  in  de  clearin' 
by  de  shanty  an'  down  de  hollow  whar  de  pumpkin-patch 
am.  Dat  a  powerful  onpleasant  locality  for  a  li'l'  black 
boy  whut  he  name  was  Mose. 

'Ca'se  dat  li'l'  black  boy  he  so  specially  black  he  can't 
be  seen  in  de  dark  at  all  'cept  by  de  whites  ob  he  eyes. 
So  whin  he  go'  outen  de  house  at  night,  he  ain't  dast  shut 
he  eyes,  'ca'se  den  ain't  nobody,  can  see  him  in  de  least. 


106  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

He  jest  as  invidsible  as  nuffin'.  An'  who  know'  but  whut 
a  great,  big  ghost  bump  right  into  him  'ca'se  it  can't  see 
him?  An'  dat  shore  w'u'd  scare  dat  li'l'  black  boy  power- 
ful' bad,  'ca'se  yever'body  knows  whut  a  cold,  damp 
pussonality  a  ghost  is. 

So  whin  dat  li'l'  black  Mose  go'  outen  de  shanty  at  night, 
he  keep '  he  eyes  wide  open,  you  may  be  shore.  By  day  he 
eyes  'bout  de  size  ob  butter-pats,  an '  come  sundown  he  eyes 
'bout  de  size  ob  saucers;  but  whin  he  go'  outen  de  shanty 
at  night,  he  eyes  am  de  size  ob  de  white  chiny  plate  whut 
set  on  de  mantel ;  an '  it  powerful '  hard  to  keep  eyes  whut 
am  de  size  ob  dat  from  a-winkin'  an  a-blinkin'. 

So  whin  Hallowe'en  come  erlong,  dat  li'l'  black  Mose 
he  jes  mek'  up  he  mind  he  ain't  gwine  outen  he  shack  at 
all.  He  cogitate '  he  gwine  stay  right  snug  in  de  shack  wid 
he  pa  an'  he  ma.  So  dat  all  right.  Li'l'  black  Mose  he 
Scrooge'  back  in  de  corner  by  de  fireplace,  an'  he  'low'  he 
gwine  stay  dere  till  he  gwine  to  bed.  But  byme-by  Sally 
Ann,  whut  live'  up  de  road,  draps  in,  an'  Mistah  Sally 
Ann,  whut  is  her  husban',  he  draps  in,  an'  Zack  Badget  an' 
de  school-teacher  whut  board'  at  Unc'  Silas  Diggs's  house 
drap  in,  an'  a  powerful  lot  ob  folks  drap  in.  An'  li'l' 
black  Mose  he  seen  dat  gwine  be  one  s 'prise-party,  an'  he 
right  down  cheerful  'bout  dat. 

So  all  dem  folks  shake  dere  hands  an'  'low  *' Howdy," 
an'  some  ob  dem  say:  ''Why,  dere  's  li'l'  Mose!  Howdy, 
li'l'  Mose?"  An'  he  so  please'  he  jes  grin'  an'  grin', 
'ca'se  he  ain't  reckon  whut  gwine  happen.  So  byme-by 
Sally  Ann,  whut  live  up  de  road,  she  say',  *' Ain't  no  sort 
o'  Hallowe'en  lest  we  got  a  jack-o'-lantern."  An'  de 
school-teacher,  whut  board  at  Unc'  Silas  Diggs's  house, 
she  'low',  ** Hallowe'en  jes  no  Hallowe'en  at  all  'thout 
we  got  a  jack-o'-lantern."    An'  li'l'  black  Mose  he  stop' 


Material  for  Interpretation  107 

a-grinnin',  an'  he  scrooge'  so  far  back  in  de  corner  he 
'mos'  scrooge  f rough  de  wall.  But  dat  ain't  no  use,  'ca'se 
he  ma  say',  ''Mose,  go  on  down  to  de  pumpkin-patch  an' 
fotch  a  pumpkin." 

**I  ain't  want  to  go,"  say'  li'l'  black  Mose. 

*  *  Go  on  erlong  wid  yo ', "  say  he  ma '  right  commandin  \ 

**I  ain't  want  to  go,"  say'  Mose  ag'in. 

**Why  ain't  yo'  want  to  go?"  he  ma  ask'. 

**  'Ca'se  I  's  afraid  ob  de  ghosts,"  say'  li'l'  black  Mose, 
an'  dat  de  particular  truth  an'  no  mistake. 

*'Go  'long  wid  your  ghosts!"  say'  li'l'  black  Mose's  ma. 

*'What'  yo'  pick  up  dat  nonsense?"  say'  he  pa.  "Dey 
ain't  no  ghosts." 

An  dat  whut  all  dat  s 'prise-party  'low;  dey  ain't  no 
ghosts.  An'  dey  'low  dey  mus'  hab  a  jack-o'-lantern  or 
de  fun  all  sp'iled.  So  dat  li'l'  black  boy  whut  he  name  is 
Mose  he  done  got  to  fotch  a  pumpkin  from  de  pumpkin- 
patch  down  de  hollow.  So  he  step'  outen  de  shanty  an' 
he  Stan'  on  de  door-step  twell  he  get'  he  eyes  pried  open 
as  big  as  de  bottom  ob  he  ma's  wash-tub,  mostly,  an'  he 
say',  *'Dey  ain't  no  ghosts."  An'  he  put'  one  foot  on  de 
ground,  an '  dat  was  de  fust  step. 

An'  li'l'  black  Mose  he  tuck  anudder  step. 

An '  de  owl  mourn '  out,  '  *  Whut-whooo-o-o-o ! ' ' 

An'  li'l'  black  Mose  he  tuck  anudder  step. 

An'  li'l'  black  Mose  he  tuck  one  look  ober  he  shoulder, 
an'  he  shut  he  eyes  so  tight  dey  hurt  round  de  aidges,  an' 
he  pick'  up  he  foots  an'  run.  Yas,  sah,  he  run'  right  peart 
fast.  An'  he  say':  **Dey  ain't  no  ghosts.  Dey  ain't  no 
ghosts."  An'  he  run'  erlong  de  paff  whut  lead'  by  de 
buryin '-ground  on  de  hill,  'ca'se  dey  ain't  no  fince  eround 
dat  buryin '-ground  at  all. 

So  he  scoot'  past  dat  buryin '-ground  whut  on  de  hill, 


108  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

an*  dat  cemuntary  whut  betwixt  an'  between,  an*  dat 
grabebard  in  de  hollow,  twell  he  come'  to  de  pumpkin 
patch,  an'  he  rotch'  down  an'  tek  erhold  ob  de  bestest 
pumpkin  whut  in  de  patch.  An'  he  right  smart  scared, 
an  he  jes  cogitate',  "Dey  ain't  no  ghosts,"  an'  wish'  he 
goose-pimples  don't  rise  up  dat  way.  An'  he  jes  'low', 
"Dey  ain't  no  ghosts,"  an'  so  he  rotch'  down,  an'  he 
rotch'  down,  twell  he  git'  a  good  hold  on  dat  pricklesome 
stem  of  dat  bestest  pumpkin  whut  in  de  patch,  an'  he  jes 
yank'  dat  stem  wid  all  he  might. 

**Let  loosen  my  head!"  say'  a  big  voice  all  on  a  suddent. 

Dat  li'l'  black  boy  whut  he  name  is  Mose  he  jump'  'most 
outen  he  skin.  He  open'  he  eyes,  an'  he  'gin'  to  shake 
like  de  aspen-tree,  'ca'se  whut  dat  a-standin'  right  dar 
behint  him  but  a  'mendjous  big  ghost!  Yas,  sah,  dat  de 
bigges',  whites'  ghost  whut  yever  was.  An'  it  ain't  got 
no  head.  Ain't  got  no  head  at  all !  Li'l'  black  Mose  he  jes 
drap'  on  he  knees  an'  he  beg'  an'  pray': 

**0h,  'scuse  me!  'Scuse  me,  Mistah  Ghost!"  he  beg! 
**Ah  ain't  mean  no  harm  at  all." 

"What  for  you  try  to  take  my  head?"  ask'  de  ghost  in 
dat  fearsome  voice  whut  like  de  damp  wind  outen  de  cellar. 

'*  'Scuse  me!  'Scuse  me!"  beg'  li'l'  Mose.  *'Ah  ain't 
know  dat  was  yo'  head,  an'  I  ain't  know  you  was  dar  at 
all.    'Scuse  me!" 

**Ah  'scuse  you  ef  you  do  me  dis  favor,"  say'  de  ghost. 
*'Ah  got  somefin'  powerful  important  to  say  unto  you,  an' 
Ah  can't  say  hit  'ca'se  Ah  ain't  got  no  head;  an'  whin  Ah 
ain't  got  no  head,  Ah  ain't  got  no  mouf,  an'  whin  Ah  ain't 
got  no  mouf.  Ah  can't  talk  at  all." 

An*  dat  right  logical  fo'  shore.  Can't  nobody  talk 
whin  he  ain't  got  no  mouf  an*  can't  nobody  have  no  mouf 
whin  he  ain't  got  no  head,  an'  whin  li'l'  black  Mose  he 


Material  for  Interpretation  109 

look',  he  see'  dat  ghost  ain't  got  no  head  at  all. 
Nary  head. 

So  de  ghost  say': 

**Ah  come  on  down  yere  fo'  to  git  a  pumpkin  fo'  a  head, 
an'  Ah  pick  dat  ixact  pumpkin  whut  yo'  gwine  tek,  an' 
Ah  don 't  like  dat  one  bit.  No,  sah.  Ah  feel  like  Ah  pick 
yo'  up  an'  carry  yo'  away,  an'  nobody  see  you  no  more  for 
yever.  But  Ah  got  somefin'  powerful  important  to  say 
unto  yo',  an'  if  yo'  pick  up  dat  pumpkin  an'  sot  it  on  de 
place  whar  my  head  ought  to  be,  Ah  let  you  off  dis  time, 
'ca'se  Ah  ain't  been  able  to  talk  fo'  so  long  Ah  right 
hongry  to  say  somefin'." 

So  11 '1'  black  Mose  he  heft  up  dat  pumpkin,  an'  de  ghost 
he  bend'  down,  an'  li'l'  black  Mose  he  sot  dat  pumpkin  on 
dat  ghostses  neck.  An'  right  off  dat  pumpkin  head  'gin' 
to  wink  an'  blink  like  a  jack-o'-lantern,  an'  right  off  dat 
pumpkin  head  'gin'  to  glimmer  an'  glow  f rough  de  mouf 
like  a  jack-o'-lantern,  and  right  off  dat  ghost  start'  to 
speak.    Yas,  sah,  dass  so. 

**Whut  yo'  want  to  say  unto  me?"  inquire'  li'l'  black 
Mose. 

**Ah  want  to  tell  yo',"  say'  de  ghost,  **dat  yo'  ain't  need 
yever  be  skeered  of  ghosts,  'ca'se  dey  ain't  no  ghosts." 

An'  whin  he  say  dat,  de  ghost  jes  vanish'  away  like  de 
smoke  in  July.  He  ain't  even  linger  round  dat  locality 
like  de  smoke  in  Yoctober.  He  jes  dissipate'  outen  de  air, 
an'  he  gone  intirely. 

So  li'l'  Mose  he  grab'  up  de  nex'  bestest  pumpkin  an'  he 
scoot'.  An'  he  ain'  see  no  ca'se  for  to  remain  in  dat 
locality  no  longer.  He  rotch'  down,  an'  he  perambulate' 
right  quick  to  he  ma's  shack,  an'  he  lift'  up  de  latch,  an* 
he  open'  de  do',  and  he  yenter'  in.  *An'  he  say': 

**Yere  's  de  pumpkin." 


110  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

An'  he  ma  an'  he  pa'  an'  Sally  Ann,  whut  live  up  de 
road,  an'  Mistah  Sally  Ann,  whut  her  husban',  an'  Zack 
Badget,  an'  de  school-teacher  whut  board  at  Unc'  Silas 
Diggs's  house,  an'  all  de  powerful  lot  of  folks  whut  come 
to  de  doin's,  dey  all  scrooged  back  in  de  cornder  ob  de 
shack,  'ca'se  Zack  Badget  he  been  done  tell  a  ghost-tale, 
an'  yiver-body  powerful  skeered.  'Ca'se  li'l'  black  Mose 
he  come'  a-fumblin'  an'  a-rattlin'  at  de  do'  jes  whin  dat 
ghost-tale  mos'  skeery,  an'  yiver'body  gwine  imaginate  dat 
he  a  ghost  a-fumblin'  an'  a-rattlin'  at  de  do'.  Yas,  sah. 
So  li'l'  black  Mose  he  look'  roun'  an'  peer'  roun',  an'  he 
say': 

**Whut  you  all  skeered  fo'?" 

'Ca'se  ef  anybody  skeered,  he  want'  to  be  skeered,  too. 
Dat  's  natural.  But  de  school-teacher,  whut  live  at  Unc' 
Silas  Diggs's  house,  she  say': 

*'Fo'  de  lan's  sake,  we  fought  you  was  a  ghost!" 

So  li'l  black  Mose  he  sort  ob  sniff  an'  he  sort  ob  sneer, 
an'  he  'low': 

**Huh!  dey  ain't  no  ghosts." 

Den  he  ma  she  powerful  took  back  dat  lil'  black  Mose 
he  gwine  be  so  uppetish  an'  contrydict  folks  whut  know 
'rifmeticks  an'  algebricks  an'  gin'ral  countin'  widout 
fingers,  like  de  school-teacher  whut  board  at  Unc'  Silas 
Diggs's  house  knows,  an'  she  say': 

''Huh!  whut  you  know  'bout  ghosts,  anner  ways,  time 
fo'  a  li'l'  black  boy  whut  he  name  is  Mose  to  be  gwine  up 
de  ladder  to  de  loft  to  bed." 

''An'  li'l'  black  Mose  he  'low'  he  gwine  wait  a  bit.  He 
'low'  he  gwine  jes  wait  a  li'l'  bit.  How  'low'  he  gwine  be 
no  trouble  at  all  ef  he  jes  been  let  wait  twell  he  ma  she 
gwine  up  de  ladder  to  de  loft  to  bed,  too.  So  he  ma  she 
say': 


It 


Material  for  Interpretation  111 

**Git  eriong  wid  yoM  Whut  yo'  skeered  ob  whin  dey 
ain't  no  ghosts T* 

An'  li'r  black  Mose  he  scrooge',  and  he  twist',  an'  he 
pucker'  up  he  mouf,  an'  he  rub'  he  eyes,  an'  prisintly  he 
say '  right  low : 

'*I  ain't  skeered  ob  ghosts  whut  am,  'ca'se  dey  ain'  no 
ghosts." 

**Den  whut  am  yo'  skeered  ob?"  ask  he  ma. 
Nuffin ', ' '  say '  de  li  '1 '  black  boy  whut  he  name  is  Mose ; 

but  I  jes  feel  kinder  oneasy  'bout  de  ghosts  whut  ain't." 

Ellis  Parker  Butler. 
Arranged  by  Gertrude  E.  Johnson 


NEBUCHADNEZZAR 

You,  Nebuchadnezzah,  whoa,  sah! 
Whar  is  you  tryin'  to  go,  sah? 
I  'd  hab  you  fur  to  know,  sah, 

I  's  a-holdin'  ob  de  lines. 
You  better  stop  dat  prancin'; 
You  's  pow'ful  fond  ob  dancin', 
But  I'll  bet  my  yeah's  advancin* 

Dat  I  '11  cure  you  ob  yo'  shines. 

Look  heah,  mule!  Better  min'  out; 
Fus'  t'ing  you  know  you  '11  fin'  out 
How  quick  I  '11  wear  dis  line  out 

On  your  ugly  stubbo'n  back. 
You  needn't  try  to  steal  up 
An'  lif  dat  precious  heel  up; 
You  's  got  to  plow  dis  fiel'  up, 

You  has,  sah,  fur  a  fac'. 


112  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Dar,  dat  's  de  way  to  do  it ! 
He  's  comin'  right  down  to  it; 
Jes  watch  him  plowin*  troo  it! 

Dis  nigger  ain't  no  fool. 
Some  folks  dey  would  'a'  beat  him; 
Now,  dat  would  only  heat  him — 
I  know  jes  how  to  treat  him: 

You  mus'  reason  wid  a  mule. 

He  minds  me  like  a  nigger. 

If  he  wuz  only  bigger 

He  'd  fotch  a  mighty  figger, 

He  would,  I  tell  you!    Yes,  sah! 
See  how  he  keeps  a-clickin'! 
He  's  as  gentle  as  a  chiekin. 
An'  nebber  thinks  o'  kickin' — 

Whoa  dar!  Nehuchadnezzahl 

Is  dis  heah  me,  or  not  me? 
Or  is  de  debbil  got  me? 
Wuz  dat  a  cannon  shot  me? 

Hab  I  laid  heah  more  'n  a  week? 
Dat  mule  do  kick  amazin'. 
De  beast  was  sp'ilde  in  raisin' — 
But  now  I  s'pect  he's  grazin' 
^  On  de  oder  side  de  creek. 

Irwin  Eussell. 


DE  CUSHVILLE  HOP 

I  'sE  gwine  down  to  de  Cushville  hop, 

An'  dar  ain'  no  nigger  gwine  ter  make  me  stop; 

Missus  gwine  ter  deck  me  all  up  in  white, 

So  watch  de  step  dat  I  'se  gettin'  in  temight. 


Material  for  Interpretation  113 

Um-hm,  ma  honey,  *tain'  no  use; 

Um-hm,  may  honey,  turn  me  loose, 

Um-hm,  ma  honey,  watch  me  shine 

When  mah  foot  am  a-shakin'  in  de  ole  coonjine. 

No  black  niggahs  come  foolin'  roun'  me, 

I  'se  jes*  to  look  at,  anyone  can  see; 

I  'se  jes  a  orniment,  an*  I  mus'  *fess 

No  niggah  put  'is  ahm  roun'  mah  snow-white  dress. 

Um-hm,  niggah,  keep  away,  understand, 

Um-hm,  niggah,  look  out  fo'  yo'  hand; 

I  'se  jes  ter  gaze  at  I  mus'  'fess. 

So  don't  put  yo'  ahm  roun'  mah  snow-white  dress. 

Bring  out  de  banjo,  plunk-plank,  plink. 
Watch  de  motion  of  mah  step  an'  mah  swing; 
Don 't  yo '  pestah  me  or  make  me  stop 
When  I  git  in  motion  at  de  Cushville  hop. 
Um-hm,  niggah,  keep  away,  keep  away ! 
Um-hm,  niggah,  not  terday! 
Keep  away  f 'om  me  kase  I  dun  kaint  stop ; 
I  'se  jes  caught  mah  motion  fer  de  Cushville  hop. 

Ben  King. 


DANCING  IN  THE  FLAT  CREEK  QUARTERS 

Listen  when  I  call  de  figgers !    Watch  de  music  es  you  go  I 
Chassay  forrard!     (Now  look  at  'em!    Some  too  fas*  an 

some  too  slow!) 
Step  out  when  I  gibs  de  order ;  keep  up  even  wid  de  line ; 
What 's  got  in  dem  lazy  niggers?    Stop  dat  stringin'  out 

behin'l 


114  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

All  go  forrard  to  de  centre!   Balance  roun'  an  den  go  back! 
Keep  on  in  de  proper  'rection,  right  straight  up  an'  down 

de  crack! 
Moobe  Tip  sides  an'  min'  de  music;  listen  when  you  hear 

me  speak ! 
(Jes'  look  at  dem  Pea  Ridge  Niggers,  how  dey  's  buckin' 

'gin  de  Creek!) 


Dat  's  de  proper  action,  Sambo !    Den  you  done  de  biznis 

right ! 
Now  show  'em  how  you  knocked  de  splinters  at  de  shuckin' 

t '  udder  night. 
Try  to  do  your  lebbel  bes',  an'  stomp  it  like  you  use  to  do; 
Jes'  come  down  on  de  '*Flat  Creek  s'<;ep,"  an'  show  de 

Ridge  a  thing  or  two ! 


Now  look  at  dat  limber  Jonah,  tryin '  to  tech  de  fancy  fling ! 
(Who  ebber  seed  a  yaller  nigger  dat  could  cut  de  pidgin '- 

wing?) 
Try  dat  kick  again  dar,  Moses ;  tell  you  what,  dat 's  hard 

to  beat! 
(How  kin  sech  a  little  nigger  handle  sech  a  pile  o'  feet!) 

Swing  your  corners!     Turn  your  pardners!     ('Pears  de 

motion's  gettin  slow,) 
What  's  de  matter  wid  de  music  ?    Put  some  rosgum  on  dat 

bow! 
Moobe  up,  Tom — don'  be  so  sleepy!    Let  'em  see  what  you 

kin  do! 
Light  off  in  de  "gra-vine-twis'  "an'  knock  de  *' double 

shuffle,"  too! 


Material  for  Interpretation  115 

Gosh !    Dat  double-j  'inted  Steben  flings  a  hif alutin '  hoof ! 
He  kicks  de  dus'  plum  out  de  planks  an'  jars  de  shingles 

on  de  roof ! 
Steady,  now,  an '  check  de  motion !    Let  de  fiddler  stop  de 

chune ; 
I  smell  de  possum  froo  de  crack,  an'  supper  's  gwine  to 

call  you  soon. 

De  white  folks  come  it  mighty  handy,  waltzin'  'roun'  so 

nice  an'  fine; 
But  when  you  come  to  reg'lar  dancin\  niggers  leabes  'em 

way  behin'! 

John  A.  Macon. 


BRER  RABBIT  AND  THE  LITTLE  GIRL 

*'One  time,  after  Brer  Rabbit  done  bin  trompin'  'roun' 
huntin'  up  some  sallid  fer  ter  make  out  his  dinner  wid,  he 
fine  hisse'f  in  de  neighborhoods  er  Mr.  Man's  house,  en 
he  pass  'long  twel  he  come  ter  de  gyardin  gate,  en  nigh 
the  gyardin  gate  he  see  Little  Gal  playin'  'roun'  in  de 
san '.  W  'en  Brer  Rabbit  look  'twix '  de  gyarden  palins  en 
see  de  colluds,  en  de  sparrer-grass,  en  de  yuther  gyardin 
truck  growin'  dar,  hit  make  he  mouf  water.  Den  he  take 
en  walk  up  ter  de  Little  Gal,  Brer  Rabbit  did,  en  bow,  en 
scrape  his  foot,  en  talk  mighty  nice  en  slick. 

**  *  Howdy,  Little  Gal,'  sez  Brer  Rabbit,  sezee;  'how  you 
come  on?'  sezee. 

**Den  de  Little  Gal,  she  'spon'  howdy,  she  did,  en  she 
ax  Brer  Rabbit  how  he  come  on,  en  Brer  Rabbit,  he  'low  he 
mighty  po'ly.  En  den  he  ax  ef  dis  de  Little  Gal  w'at  'er 
pa  live  up  dar  in  de  big  w'ite  house,  w'ch  de  Little  Gal, 


115  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

she  up  'n  say  'twer'.  Brer  Rabbit  he  say  he  mighty  glad, 
kase  he  des  bin  up  dar  fer  ter  see  'er  pa,  en  he  say  dat  'er 
pa,  he  sont  'im  out  dar  fer  ter  tell  de  Little  Gal  dat  she 
mus^  open  de  gyardin  gate  so  Brer  Eabbit  kin  go  in  en  git 
some  truck.  Den  de  Little  Gal  she  jump  'roun',  she  did,  en 
she  open  de  gate,  en  wid  dat.  Brer  Rabbit  he  hop  in,  he  did, 
en  got  'im  a  mess  er  greens,  en  hop  out  ag'in,  en  w'en  he 
gwine  off  he  make  his  bow,  he  did,  en  tell  de  Little  Gal  dat 
he  much  'bleege,  en  den  atter  dat  he  put  out  fer  home. 

**Nex'  day,  Brer  Rabbit  he  hide  out,  he  did,  twel  he  see 
de  Little  Gal  come  out  ter  play,  en  den  he  put  up  de  same 
tale,  en  walk  off  wid  an'er  mess  er  truck,  en  hit  keep  on 
dis  away,  twel  bimeby  Mr.  Man,  he  'gunter  miss  his  greens, 
en  he  keep  on  a-missin'  un  um,  twell  he  gotter  excusin' 
eve 'body  on  de  place  er  'stroyin'  un  um,  en  w'en  dat  come 
ter  pas',  de  Little  Gal,  she  up'n  say: 

**  *My  goodness,  pa!'  sez  she,  'you  done  tole  Mr.  Rabbit 
fer  ter  come  en  make  me  let  'im  in  de  gyardin  atter  some 
greens,  en  ain't  he. done  come  en  ax  me,  en  ain't  I  done 
gone  en  let  'im  in  ? '  sez  she. 

Mr.  Man  ain't  hatter  study  long  'fo'  he  see  how  de  Ian' 
lay,  en  den  he  laff,  en  tell  de  Little  Gal  dat  he  done  gone 
en  disremember  all  'bout  Mr.  Rabbit,  en  den  he  up  'n  say, 
sezee : 

**  *Nex'  time  Brer  Rabbit  come,  you  tak'n  tu'n  'im  in,  en 
den  you  run  des  ez  fas '  ez  you  kin  en  come  en  tell  me,  kase 
I  got  some  bizness  wid  dat  young  chap  dat's  'bleeged  ter 
be  'tend  ter,'  sezee. 

**Sho  nuff,  nex'  mawnin'  dar  wuz  de  Little  Gal  playin' 
'roun',  en  yer  come  Brer  Rabbit  atter  his  'lowance  er 
greens.  He  wuz  ready  wid  de  same  tale,  en  den  de  Little 
Gal  she  tu'n  him  in,  she  did,  en  den  she  run  up  ter  der 
house  en  holler: 


Material  for  Interpretation  117 

**  *0h,  pa !  pa !  Oh !  pa.  Yer  Brer  Rabbit  in  de  gyardin 
now !    Yer  he  is,  pa ! ' 

**Den  Mr.  Man  he  rush  out  en  grab  up  a  fishin'  line  w'at 
wuz  hangin'  in  de  back  po'ch,  en  make  for  de  gyardin,  en 
w'en  he  git  dar,  dar  waz  Brer  Rabbit  tramplin'  Voun'  on 
de  strawbe 'y-bed  en  mashin'  down  de  termartusses.  Wen 
Brer  Rabbit  see  Mr.  Man,  he  squot  behine  a  coUud  leaf,  but 
'twe'n't  no  use.  Mr.  Man  done  seed  him,  en  'fo'  you  cin 
count  'leven,  he  done  got  ole  Brer  Rabbit  tie  hard  en  fas' 
wid  de  fishin'  line.  Atter  he  done  got  'im  tie  good,  Mr. 
Man  step  back,  he  did,  en  say,  sezee: 

**  *You  done  been  fool  me  lots  er  time,  but  dis  time 
yo're  mine.  I  'm  gwinter  take  you  en  gin  you  a  larrupin',^ 
sezee,  *en  den  I  'm  gwinter  skin  you  en  nail  yo'  hide  on 
de  stable  do','  sezee;  *en  den  to  make  sho  dat  you  git  de 
right  kinder  larrupin',  I  '11  des  step  up  ter  de  house,'  sezee, 
'en  fetch  de  little  red  cowhide,  en  den  I  '11  take  en  gin 
you  brinjer,'  sezee. 

**Den  Mr.  Man  call  ter  de  Little  Gal  ter  watch  Brer 
Rabbit  w'iles  he  gone. 

**Brer  Rabbit  ain't  sayin'  nothin',  but  Mr.  Man  ain't 
mo'n  out  de  gate  'fo'  he  'gun  ter  sing;  en  in  dem  days 
Brer  Rabbit  wuz  a  singer,  mon,  en  w'en  he  chuned  up  fer 
ter  sing  he  make  dem  yuther  creeturs  hoi'  der  bref." 

**Bf  I  ain't  fergit  dat  song  off'n  my  min',  hit  run  sorter 
dis  yer  way : 

**  *De  jay-bird  hunt  de  sparrer-nes', 
De  bee-martin  sail  all  'roun ' ; 

De  squir'l  holler  from  de  top  er  de  tree, 
Mr.  Mole  he  stay  in  de  groun' ; 

He  hide  en  he  stay  twel  de  dark  drap  down- 
Mr.  Mole  he  hide  in  de  groun '. ' 


118  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

**W'en  de  Little  Gal  hear  dat,  she  laugh,  she  did,  en 
she  up  'n  ax  Brer  Rabbit  fer  ter  sing  some  mo',  but  Brer 
Rabbit  he  sorter  cough,  he  did,  en  'low  dat  he  got  a  mighty 
bad  ho'seness  down  inter  his  win 'pipe  som'ers.  De  Little 
Gal  she  swade  en  swade,  en  bimeby  Brer  Rabbit,  he  up  'n 
'low  dat  he  kin  dance  mo'  samer  dan  w'at  he  kin  sing. 
Den  de  Little  Gal  she  ax  'im  won't  he  dance,  en  Brer 
Rabbit  he  'spon'  how  in  de  name  er  goodness  kin  a  man 
dance  w'iles  he  all  tie  up  dis  way,  en  den  de  Little  Gal 
she  say  she  kin  ontie  'im,  en  Brer  Rabbit  he  say  he  ain't 
keerin'  ef  she  do.  Wid  dat  de  Little  Gal  she  retch  down 
en  enloose  de  fish-line,  en  Brer  Rabbit  he  sorter  stretch 
hisse'f  en  look  'roun'." 

**Den,  bless  yo'  soul,  honey!  Brer  Rabbit  gedder  up 
his  footses  und'  'im,  en  he  dance  outer  dat  gyardin,  en  he 
dance  home.  He  did  dat!  Sho'ly  you  don't  speck  dat  a 
ole-timer  w'at  done  had  'spe'unce  like  Brer  Rabbit  gwine 
ter  stay  dar  en  let  dat  ar  Mr.  Man  sackyfice  'im?  Shoo! 
Brer  Rabbit  dance,  but  he  dance  home.    You  hear  me  ? " 

Joel  Chandler  Harris. 


V 


Af- 


^ 


/•^ 


A^"''     '  OPPORTUNITY 


I' 


^''  Granny's  gone  a-visitin', 

Seen  huh  git  huh  shawl 
^'    *  Wen  I  was  a-hidin'  down 

Hime  de  gyahden  wall. 
Seen  huh  put  her  bonnet  on, 
^^  «  Seen  huh  tie  de  strings, 

.  An '  I  'se  gone  to  dreamin '  now 

'Bout  dem  cakes  an'  t'ings. 


Material  for  Interpretation  119 

On  de  she'f  behime  de  do — ' 
Mussy,  what  a  feas'! 
Soon  ez  she  gits  out  o'  sight, 
I  kin  eat  in  peace. 
I  bin  watchin'  fu*  a  week 
Des  fu'  dis  hyeah  chance. 
Mussy,  w'en  I  gets  in  daih, 
I  '11  des  sholy  dance. 


Lemon  pie  an'  gingah-cake, 

Let  me  set  an'  t'ink — 

Vinegah  an'  sugah,  too, 

Dat  '11  mek  a  drink ; 

Ef  dey  's  one  t'ing  dat  I  loves 

Mos'  pu'ticlahly, 

It  is  eatin'  sweet  t'ings  an' 

A-drinkin'  Sangaree. 

Lawdy,  won'  po'  granny  raih 

Wen  she  see  de  she'f ; 

Wen  I  t'ink  erbout  huh  face, 

I  's  'mos'  'shamed  myse'f. 

Well,  she  gone,  an'  hyeah  I  is, 

Back  behime  de  do' — 

Look  hyeah !  gran'  's  done  'spected  me, 

Dain't  no  sweets  no  mo'. 


Evah  sweet  is  hid  away, 
Job  des  done  up  brown; 
Pusson  t'ink  dat  someun  t 'ought 
Dey  was  t'eves  erroun'; 


120  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Dat  des  breaks  my  heart  in  two, 
Oh  how  bad  I  feel! 
Des  to  t  'ink  my  own  gramma 
B'lieved  dat  I  'u'd  steal! 

Paul  Laurence  Dunhar, 


THE  TALE  OF  THE  'POSSUM 

From  Christmas-Night  in  the  Quarters 

Go  'way,  fiddle!  folks  is  tired  o'  hearin'  you  a-squakin'. 
Keep  silence  fur  yo'  betters! — don't  you  heah  de  banjo 

talkin'? 
About   de    'possum's  tail  she  's  gwine   to  lecter — ^ladies, 

listen ! — 
About  de  ha'r  whut  isn't  da,  an'  why  de  ha'r  is  missin': 


**Dar's  gwine  to  be  a'  oberflow,"  said  Noah,  looking  sol- 
emn— 

Fur  Noah  tuk  the  '* Herald,"  an'  he  read  de  ribber 
Column — 

An'  so  he  sot  his  hands  to  wuk  a-el'arin'  timber-patches. 

And  'lowed  he  's  gwine  to  build  a  boat  to  beat  the  steamah 
Natchez. 


or  Noah  kep'  a-nailin'  an'  a-chippin'  an  a-sawin'; 

An '  all  de  wicked  neighbors  kep '  a-laughin '  an  a-pshawin ' ; 

But  Noah  didn't  min'  'em,  knowin'  whut  wuz  gwine  to 

happen : 
An '  forty  days  an '  forty  nights  de  rain  it  kep '  a-drappin '. 


Material  for  Interpretation  121 

Now,  Noah  had  done  cotched  a  lot  ob  ebry  sort  o'  beas'es — 
Ob  all  de  shows  a-trabbelin ',  it  beat  'em  all  to  pieces! 
He  had  a  Morgan  colt  an '  sebral  head  o '  Jarsey  cattle — 
An '  dru,v  'em  'board  de  Ark  as  soon  's  he  heerd  de  thunder 
rattle. 

Den  sech  anoder  fall  ob  rain ! — it  come  so  awful  hebby, 
De  ribber  riz  immejitly,  an'  busted  troo  de  lebee; 
De  people  all  wuz  drowned  out — 'cep'  Noah  an'  de  critters, 
An'  men  he  'd  hired  to  work  de  boat — an'  one  to  mix  de 
bitters. 

De  Ark  she  kep'  a-sailin'  an'  a-sailin'  an*  a-sailin'; 

De  lion  got  his  dander  up,  an '  like  to  bruk  de  palin ' ; 

De  sarpents  hissed ;  de  painters  yelled ;  tell,  whut  wid  all 

de  fussin', 
You  c'u'dn't  hardly  heah  de  mate  a-bossin'   'roun'  an* 

cussin'. 

Now,  Ham,  de  only  nigger  whut  wuz  runnin*  on  de  packet. 
Got  lonesome  in  de  barber-shop,   an'   c'u'dn't  stan'   de 

racket ; 
An'  so,  fur  to  amuse  he-se'f,  he  steamed  some  wood  an* 

bent  it. 
An'  soon  he  had  a  banjo  made — de  fust  dat  waz  invented. 

He  wet  de  ledder,  stretched  it  on ;  made  bridge  an '  screws 

an^'  aprin; 
An'   fitted   in   a   proper   neck — 't   wuz   berry   long   an* 

tap  'rin ' ; 
He  tuk  some  tin,  an '  twisted  him  a  thimble  fur  to  ring  it ; 
An'  den  de  mighty  question  riz;  how  wuz  he  gwine  to 

string  it  ? 


122  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

De  'possum  had  as  fine  a  tail  as  dis  dat  I  's  a-singin'; 
De  ha'r  's  so  long  an'  thick  an'  strong, — des  fit  fur  banjo- 

stringin'j 
Dat  nigger  shaved   'em  off  as  short  as  wash-day-dinner 

graces ; 
An'  sorted  ob  'em  by  de  size,  f'om  little  E's  to  basses. 

He  strung  her,  tuned  her,  struck  a  jig, — 't  wuz  **Nebber 

min'  de  wedder," — 
She  soun'  like  forty-lebben  bands  a-playin'  all  togedder; 
Some  went  to  pattin';  some  to  dancin':  Noah  called  de 

figgers; 
An'  Ham  he  sot  an'  knocked  de  tune,  de  happiest  ob 

niggers ! 

Now,  sence  dat  time — ^it  's  mighty  strange — dere  's  not  de 

slightes'  showin' 
Ob  any  ha'r  at  all  upon  de  'possum's  tail  a-growin'; 
An'  curi's,  too,  dat  nigger's  ways:  his  people  nebber  los' 

'em — 
Fur  whar  you  finds  de  nigger — dar's  de  banjo  an'  de 

'possum ! 

Irmn  Eussell. 


SECTION  IX 
FEENCH  AND  FEENCH  CANADIAN 


SECTION  IX 
FRENCH  AND  FRENCH  CANADIAN 

*^DIEUDONNE"  (God-Given) 

IF  I  sole  ma  ole  blind  trotter  for  fifty  dollar  cash 
Or  win  de  beeges'  prize  on  lotterie, 
If  some  good  frien'  die  an  lef  me  fines'  house  on  St. 

Eustache, 
You  t'ink  I  feel  more  happy  dan  I  be? 

No,  sir !    An '  I  can  tole  you,  if  you  never  know  before 

Wy  de  kettle  on  de  stove  mak'  such  a  fuss, 

Wy  de  robin  stop  hees  singin'  an'  come  peekin'  tVoo  de 

door 
For  learn  about  de  nice  t'ing  come  to  us — 

An'  w'en  he  see  de  baby  lyin'  dere  upon  de  bed 

Lak  leetle  Son  of  Mary  on  de  ole  tam  long  ago — 

Wit'  de  sunshine  an'  de  shadder  makin'  ring  around  hees 

head, 
No  wonder  M'sieu  Robin  wissle  low. 

An'  we  can't  help  feelin'  glad  too,  so  we  call  heem  Dieu- 

donne ; 
An'  he  never  cry,  dat  baby,  w'en  he  's  chrissen  by  de  pries' 
All  de  sam'  I  bet  you  dollar  he  '11  waken  up  some  day, 
An'  be  as  bad  as  leetel  boy  Bateese. 

William  H.  Drummond, 
125 


126  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 


LITTLE  BATEESB 

You  bad  leetle  boy,  not  moche  you  care 

How  busy  you  're  kipin'  your  poor  gran'pere 

Tryin'  to  stop  you  ev'ry  day 

Chasin'  de  hen  aroun'  de  hay — 

W'y  don't  you  geev  dem  a  chance  to  lay? 

Leetle  Bateese! 

Off  on  de  fiel'  you  f oiler  de  plough 
Den  w'en  you're  tire  you  scare  de  cow 
Sickin'  de  dog  till  dey  jomp  de  wall 
So  de  milk  ain't  good  for  not'ing  at  all — 
An'  you  're  only  j5ve  an'  a  half  dis  fall, 

Leetle  Bateese! 

Too  sleepy  for  sayin'  de  prayer  tonight? 
Never  min'  I  s'pose  it  '11  be  all  right 
Say  dem  tomorrow — ah !  dere  he  go ! 
Pas'  asleep  in  a  minute  or  so — 
An'  he'll  stay  lak  dat  till  de  rooster  crow, 

Leetle  Bateese! 

Den  wake  us  up  right  away  toute  suite 
Lookin'  for  somet'ing  more  to  eat, 
Makin'  me  t'ink  of  dem  long  leg  crane 
Soon  as  dey  swaller,  dey  start  again, 
I  wonder  your  stomach  don 't  get  no  pain, 

Leetle  Bateese! 

But  see  heem  now  lyin'  dere  in  bed. 
Look  at  de  arm  onderneat'  hees  head; 


Material  for  Interpretation  12% 

If  he  grow  lak  dat  till  he  's  twenty  year 
I  bet  he  11  be  stronger  dan  Louis  Cyr 
An'  beat  all  de  voyageurs  leevin'  here, 

Leetle  Bateese! 

Jus'  feel  de  muscle  along  hees  back, 
Won't  geev'  heem  moche  bodder  for  carry  pack 
On  de  long  portage,  any  size  canoe, 
Dere  's  not  many  t  'ing  dat  boy  won 't  do 
For  he  's  got  double- joint  on  hees  body  too, 

Leetle  Bateese! 

But  leete  Bateese !  please  don 't  forget 
We  rader  you  're  stayin '  de  small  boy  yet, 
So  chase  de  chicken  an'  mak'  dem  scare 
An'  do  w'at  you  lak  wit'  your  ole  gran'pere 
For  w  'en  you  're  beeg  feller  he  won 't  be  dere — 

Leetle  Bateese! 
William  Henry  Drummond. 


FOOTBALL  AT  CHEBANSE^ 

Dis  ball  on  foot,  dey  play  las'  we'k, 

Vas  mighty  fonny  game, 

Dey  might  haf '  called  it  **gran'  prize  fight," 

I  t'ink  dat's  better  name. 

De  match,  it  vos  feex  op  between 

De  High  School  on  Chebanse, 

An'  Parish  School  of  ol'  Ste.  Anne's 

On  nodder  side  de  fence. 

*Prom  '*The  Ballads  of  Bourbonnais, "  by  Wallace  Bruce  Ams- 
bary.  Copyright  1904.  Used  by  special  permission  of  the  publishers, 
the  Bobbs-Merrill  Company. 


128  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Dey's  nodding  else  dat  talk  about, 
For  four,  five  we'k  or  more; 
Dey  mak'  display  of  loafing  cop 
Down  at  LaPlace's  store. 
De  loafing  cop  it  is  de  prize 
For  vinners  of  de  game. 
An'  on  de  side  ees  vacant  place 
For  to  engrave  dere  name. 

Dey  charge  you  fifteen  cent  admish, 

But  I  vas  got  in  free, 

Dey  use  my  pasture  Ian'  for  game, 

Von  dollar  dey  pay  me. 

Dey's  quite  a  crowd  vas  com'  along, 

From  de  hull  country  'roun', 

De  boggay,  horse  an'  vagon  heetch 

Mos'  overe  de  hull  town. 

An'  den  I  saw  a  sight,  I  t'ink, 

I  never e  before  saw, 

Dem  ball  on  foot  chaps  all  feex  op, 

Dey  look  so  vild  an'  raw, 

Vit  long  hair  like  de  monkey  muff; 

I  t'ink  dere  fit  for  kill. 

Before  dey  got  t'roo  von  meex-op— 

I  'm  sure,  by  gosh !  dey  vill. 

Dere's  von  garcon  had  muzzle  on, 

Lak'  dey  put  on  mad  dog, 

I  say,  ''Captaine,  vat  for  dat  eesT* 

He  say,  "He  bit  like  hog; 

Ven  in  de  middle  of  de  game. 

He  got  ver'  moch  excite, 

He  need  dose  crowbars  on  in  front 

To  keep  avay  dat  bite." 


Material  for  Interpretation  129 

Den  dey  got  soon  to  beezenesse  down, 

De  Rouge  dey  all  von  side, 

De  Bleu  dey  line  on  front  of  dem, 

Vaiting  for  vord  from  guide, 

He  say  '*A11  h 'right!''  an'  den  de  Rouge 

Garcon  dat  stan'  ahead, 

He  ben  down  lak'  he  play  leap-frog, 

Overe  de  ball  an'  said: 

**T'ree  sixty-ate,  two,  five,  fourteen!" 
An'  den  back  t'roo  he's  legs 
He's  geeve  dat  ball  an  awful  push. 
An'  den  lak'  scrambled  eggs, 
Dem  garcon  gat  togedder  quick, — 
It  vas  a  mos'  surprise. 
You  can't  tell  vat  dey  vos  look  like 
If  you  had  t  'ousan '  eyes. 

Dey  push  an'  squeeze,  an'  dan  dey  mak*, 

Vat  I  call  tug  of  var, 

An'  pretty  soon  dere's  von  garcon. 

He  don't  know  vere  he  are. 

**He's  put  to  sleep,"  dey's  some  von  say. 

He's  tired,  I  suppose; 

I  t'ink  it's  fonny  tam'  for  nap, 

Ven  you  gat  bloody  nose. 

De  Rouge  dey  gain  t'ree,  four,  five  point, 

Dey  mak'  une  gran'  **tooch  op." 

Dis  put  de  coleur  Bleu  on  fire, 

Dey  t'ink  of  loafing  cop, 

Dey  start  de  game  vonce  more,  again, 

In  almos'  de  same  vay. 

De  bleachere  shout,  an'  yell  it  loud, 

To  ''push  on  an'  mak'  haj  " 


180  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

I  bate  dat  valk  dat  Teddy  took, 

Ven  he  run  San  Juan  hill, 

Vas  never e  half  so  hard  to  clim* 

As  dis  here  football  mill. 

0  my !  0  my !  de  blood  dey  spill, 

Mos*  two  full  bucketsful, 

It  looks  more  lak'  beeg  slaughter  pen, 

Vere  Spaniard  fight  de  bull. 

For  us  now,  soon,  dough  ve  don'  know, 

Dere's  incident  in  store, 

But  ve  too  interes*  in  game 

To  t'ink  of  nodding  more. 

Dere's  bull  on  Theabault's  pasture, 

He's  vink  de  odder  eye, 

He's  ears  dey  vas  stan'  dem  op  straight, 

He's  head  he  hoi'  it  high. 

De  Rouge,  he's  mak'  it  von  gran'  rush, 

Dat  bull  he's  mak'  von,  too. 

He's  jump  de  fence,  an'  den  commence, 

For  meex  op  in  dat  stew. 

In  jus'  about  two  minute  more, 

He  haf  de  field  alone; 

He  haf  de  hull  place  by  heemself, 

He  fin'  it's  all  his  own. 

Ve's  scatter  quick,  lak'  many  flea, 
Mak'  prompt  for  de  timbere. 
Ve  all  gat  out  of  dere  right  soon, 
Ve  vas  so  awful  scare. 
It's  den  de  game,  it  was  call  off 
Dat's  mean,  it  vas  bus'  op, 
An'  all  decide  de  Durham  bull 
Vas  vin  dat  loafing  cop. 

Wallace  Bruce  Amsbary. 


Material  for  Interpretation  181 

DB  NICE  LEETLE  CANADIENNE 

You  can  pass  on  de  worl'  w'erever  you  lak, 

Tak'  de  steamboat  for  go  Angleterrem, 

Tak'  car  on  de  State,  an'  den  you  come  back, 

An'  go  all  de  place,  I  don't  care — 

Ma  frien'  dat  's  a  fack,  I  know  you  will  say, 

Wen  you  come  on  dis  contree  again, 

Dere  's  no  girl  can  touch,  w'at  we  see  ev'ry  day, 

De  nice  leetle  Canadienne. 

Don't  matter  how  poor  dat  girl  she  may  be, 
Her  dress  is  so  neat  an'  so  clean, 
Mos'  ev'rywan  t'ink  it  was  mak'  on  Paree, 
An'  she  wear  it,  wall!  jus'  lak  de  Queen. 
Den  come  for  fin'  out  she  is  mak'  it  herse'f, 
For  she  ain't  got  moche  monee  for  spen', 
But  all  de  sam'  tam,  she  was  never  get  lef, 
Dat  nice  little  Canadienne. 

Wen  **un  vrai  Canayen"  is  mak'  it  mariee. 

You  t'ink  he  go  leev  on  beeg  flat, 

An'  bodder  herse'f  all  de  tam,  night  an'  day, 

Wit'  housemaid,  an'  cook,  an'  all  dat? 

Not  moche,  ma  dear  frien',  he  tak'  de  maison, 

Cos'  only  nine  dollar  or  ten. 

Were  he  live  lak  blood  rooster,  an'  save  de  I'argent, 

Wit'  hees  nice  leetle  Canadienne. 

I  marry  ma  femme  w'en  I  'm  jus'  twenty  year, 
An'  now  we  got  fine  familee, 
Dat  skip  roun'  de  place  lak  leetle  small  deer. 
No  smarter  crowd  you  never  see — 


132  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

An'  I  t'ink  as  I  watch  dem  all  chasin*  about, 
Four  boy  and  six  girl,  she  mak'  ten, 
Dat  's  help  mebbe  kip  it,  de  stock  from  run  out, 
Of  de  nice  leetle  Canadienne. 

0  she  's  quick  an'  she  's  smart,  an'  got  plaintee  heart, 

If  you  know  correc'  way  go  about, 

An'  if  you  don't  know,  she  soon  tole  you  so. 

Den  tak'  de  firs'  chance  an'  get  out; 

But  if  she  love  you,  I  spik  it  for  true, 

She  will  mak'  it  more  beautiful  den, 

An'  sun  on  de  sky  can't  shine  lak  de  eye 

Of  dat  nice  leetle  Canadienne. 

William  H.  Drummcmd, 

CHARMETTB 

Away  off  back  on  de  mountain-side, 

Not  easy  t'ing  fin'  de  spot. 

Were  de  lake  below  is  long  an'  wide, 

A  nice  leetle  place  I  got, 

Mebbee  ten  foot  deep  by  twenty-two, 

An'  if  you  see  it,  I  bet 

You  '11  not  be  surprise  w  'en  I  tole  to  you 

I  chrissen  dat  place  Charmette. 

Dat  's  purty  beeg  word,  Charmette,  for  go 

On  poor  leetle  house  so  small. 

Wit'  only  wan  chimley,  a  winder  or  so. 

An'  no  galerie  at  all — 

But  I  want  beeg  word,  so  de  worl'  will  know 

Wat  dat  place  it  was  mean  to  me, 

An'  dere  on  de  book  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau, 

Charmette  is  de  nam'  I  see. 


Material  for  Interpretation  1>*8 

0  ma  dear  Charmette !  an '  de  stove  is  dere, 
(Good  stove)  an'  de  wood-pile  too. 

An'  stretch  out  your  finger  mos'  any w 'ere, 

Dere  's  plaintee  for  comfort  you — 

You  're  hongry?  wall!  you  got  pork  an'  bean 

Mak'  you  feel  lak  Edouard  de  King — 

You  're  torsty?    Jus'  look  dere  behin'  de  screen, 

An'  mebbe  you  fin'  somet'ing — 

Ha !  Ha !  you  got  it.    Ma  dear  Charmette. 

Dere  's  many  fine  place,  dat  's  true, 

If  you  travel  aroun'  de  worl',  but  yet 

Were  is  de  place  lak  you? 

Open  de  door,  don't  kip  it  close — 

Wat  's  air  of  de  mornin'  for? 

Would  you  fassen  de  door  on  de  win'  dat  blows 

Over  God 's  own  boulevard  ? 

You  see  dat  lake  ?    Wall !    I  alway  hate 

To  brag — but  she's  full  of  trout. 

So  full  dey  can't  jump  togeder,  but  wait 

An'  tak'  their  chance,  turn  about — 

An'  if  you  be  campin'  up  dere  above, 

De  mountain  would  be  so  high. 

Very  offen  de  camp  you'd  have  to  move, 

Or  how  can  de  moon  pass  by? 

It's  wonderful  place  for  sure,  Charmette, 
An'  ev'ry  wan  say  to  me — 

1  got  all  de  pleasure  de  man  can  get 
'Cept  de  wife  an'  de  familee — 

But  somebody  else  can  marry  ma  wife, 
Have  de  familee  too  also, 
Wat  more  do  I  want,  so  long  ma  life 
Was  spare  to  me  here  below  ? 


134  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

For  we  can't  be  happier  dan  we  been 

Over  twenty  year,  no  siree! 

An'  if  ever  de  stranger  come  between 

De  leetle  Charmette  an'  me, 

Den  all  I  can  say  is,  kip  out  de  way, 

For  dynamite  sure  I'll  get, 

An'  affer  dat  you  can  hunt  all  day 

For  me  an '  ma  dear  Charmette. 

William  H.  Drummond. 


RESPONSE  TO  A  TOAST 

MiLOBS  and  Gentlemans — ^You  excellent  chairman,  M.  le 
Baron  de  Mount-Stuart,  he  have  say  to  me,  'Make  de 
toast. '  Den  I  say  to  him  dat  I  have  no  toast  to  make ;  but 
he  nudge  my  elbow  ver  soft,  and  say  dat  dere  is  von  toast 
dat  nobody  but  von  Frenchman  can  make  proper;  and, 
derefore,  wid  your  kind  permission,  I  vill  make  de  toast. 
'  De  brevete  is  de  sole  of  de  feet, '  as  you  great  philosophere. 
Dr.  Johnson,  do  say,  in  dat  amusing  little  vork  of  his,  de 
Pronouncing  Dictionnaire ;  and,  derefore,  I  vill  not  say  ver 
moch  to  de  point.  Ven  I  vas  a  boy,  about  so  moch  tall,  and 
used  for  to  promenade  de  streets  of  Marseilles  et  of  Rouen, 
vid  no  feet  to  put  onto  my  shoe,  I  nevare  to  have  expose 
dat  dis  day  vould  to  have  arrive.  I  vas  to  begin  de  vorld 
as  von  gargon — or,  vat  you  call  in  dis  countrie,  von  vaitaire 
in  a  cafe — vere  I  vork  ver  hard,  vid  no  habillemens  at  all 
to  put  onto  myself,  and  ver  little  food  to  eat,  excep'  von 
old  blue  blouse  vat  vas  give  to  me  by  de  proprietaire,  just 
for  to  keep  myself  fit  to  be  showed  at ;  but,  tank  goodness, 
tings  dey  have  change  ver  moch  for  me  since  dat  time,  and 
I  have  rose  myself,  seulement  par  mon  industrie  et  per- 


Material  for  Interpretation  IS 5 

severance.  Ah !  mes  amis !  ven  I  hear  to  myself  de  flowing 
speech,  de  oration  magnifique  of  you  Lor'  Maire,  Monsieur 
Gobbledown,  I  feel  dat  it  is  von  great  privilege  for  von 
etrange  to  sit  at  de  same  table,  and  to  eat  de  same  food, 
as  dat  grand,  dat  majestique  man,  who  are  de  terreur  of  de 
voleurs  and  de  brigands  of  de  metropolis ;  and  who  is  also, 
I  for  to  suppose,  a  halterman  and  de  chef  of  you  common 
scoundrel.  Milors  and  gentlemans,  I  feel  dat  I  can  perspire 
to  no  greatare  honneur  dan  to  be  von  common  scoundrel- 
man  myself;  but,  helas!  dat  plaisir  are  not  for  me,  as  I 
are  not  freeman  of  your  great  cite,  not  von  liveryman 
servant  of  von  of  you  compagnies  joint-stock.  But  I  must 
not  forget  de  toast.  Milors  and  Gentlemans !  De  immortal 
Shakispeare  he  have  write,  'De  ting  of  beauty  are  de  joy 
for  nevermore.'  It  is  de  ladies  who  are  de  toast.  Vat  is 
more  entrancing  dan  de  charmante  smile,  de  soft  voice,  der 
vinking  eye  of  de  beautiful  lady!  It  is  de  ladies  who  do 
sweeten  de  cares  of  life.  It  is  de  ladies  who  are  de  guiding 
stars  of  our  existence.  It  is  de  ladies  who  do  cheer  but  not 
inebriate,  and  derefore,  vid  all  homage  to  de  dear  sex,  de 
toast  dat  I  have  to  propose  is,  *  De  Ladies !  God  bless  dem 
all!"' 

Litchfield  Moseley. 
(From  *'A  Charity  Dinner.") 

THE  FAMILY  LARAMIE 

HssH  1  look  at  ba-bee  on  de  leetle  blue  chair, 

Wat  you  t'ink  he's  tryin'  to  do? 

Wit'  pole  on  de  han'  lak  de  lumberman, 

A-shovin'  along  canoe. 

Dere's  purty  strong  current  behin'  de  stove, 

Were  it's  passin'  de  ehimley-stone. 


186  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

But  hell  come  roun'  yet,  if  he  don't  upset, 
So  long  he  was  lef '  alone. 

Dat's  way  ev'ry  boy  on  de  house  begin 
No  sooner  he's  twelve  mont'  ole; 
He'll  play  canoe  up  an'  down  de  Soo 
An'  paddle  an'  push  de  pole, 
Den  haul  de  log  all  about  de  place. 
Till  dey're  fillin'  up  mos'  de  room, 
An'  say  it's  all  right,  for  de  storm  las'  night 
Was  carry  away  de  boom. 

Mebbe  you  see  heem,  de  young  loon  bird, 

Wit'  half  of  de  shell  hangin'  on, 

Tak'  hees  firse  slide  to  de  water  side, 

An'  off  on  de  lake  he's  gone. 

Out  of  de  cradle  dey're  goin'  sam'  way 

On  reever  an'  lake  an'  sea; 

For  born  to  de  trade,  dat's  how  dey're  made, 

De  familee  Laramie. 

An'  de  reever  she's  lyin'  so  handy  dere 

On  foot  of  de  hill  below, 

Dancin'  along  an'  singin'  de  song 

As  away  to  de  sea  she  go. 

No  wonder  I  never  can  lak  dat  song, 

For  soon  it  is  comin'  w'en, 

Dey  '11  lissen  de  call,  leetle  Pierre  an '  Paul, 

An'  w'ere  will  de  modfer  be  den? 

She'll  sit  by  de  shore  w'en  de  evenin's  come, 
An '  spik  to  de  reever  too : 
*  *  0  reever,  you  know  how  dey  love  you  so, 
Since  ever  dey're  seein'  you, 


Material  for  Interpretation  137 

For  sake  of  dat  love  bring  de  leetle  boy  home 
Once  more  to  de  moder's  knee." 
An'  mebbe  de  prayer  I  be  makin'  dere 
Will  help  bring  dem  back  to  me. 

William  H,  Drwmmond, 


DE  CIRQUE  AT  OL'  STE.  ANNE  ^ 

I^M  ride  overe  from  Papineau, 
Premier-classe  cirque  for  see, 
Dat's  advertise  for  com'  Ste.  Anne 
An'  mak'  som'  fun  vid  me. 
I'm  tak'  along  my  Julie  gairl, 
I'm  gat  her  on  de  way, 
Ve're  off  for  have  une  jolie  tarn', 
A  full  all  holiday. 

Ve  see  de  animal  so  vil ', 
Gran '  lion  in  de  cage, 
He's  walk  it  op  an'  down  aroun* 
Lak'  he  vas  in  a  rage. 
Regardes  monkey  an'  giraffe 
Vit  neck  so  long  an'  slim, 
You's  almos'  need  a  telephone 
To  say  ''hello"  at  him. 

Beeg  crowd  was  all  de  cage  aroun' 
For  see  w'at  dey  could  see, 
Dey  wan'  to  gat  dere  money *s  wort', 
Mos'  squeeze  de  life  off  me: 

*From  **The  Ballads  of  Bourbonnais, "  by  Wallace  Bruce  Ams- 
bary.  Copyright  1904.  Used  by  special  permission  of  the  publishers, 
the  Bobbs-Merrill  Company. 


138  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

We  see  de  zebra;  den  I  t'ink 
Wir  man  from  Borneo, 
An'  w'en  we  gat  t'roo  dat  moch  dere 
Into  beeg  tent  we  go. 


I'm  buy  pop-corn,  also  peanut, 
Donnay  to  my  Julie; 
Ve's  eat  it  all  togedder  op, 
Oh,  my,  we  have  une  spree! 
Nex '  t  'ing  ve  sat  in  hippodrome, 
In  deux  grand  reserve  seat — 
I  pay  ten  cent  extray  for  dem; 
For  view  dey  can't  be  beat. 


So  moch  for  see  dat's  goin'  on, 

I  'm  gat  all  mix  op  yet ; 

It's  all  so  good  I  can't  mak'  out 

Jus'  w'ere  ma  eyes  for  set. 

Beeg  man  vas  op  on  high  trapeze, 

An '  pretty  lady — Oo ! 

She's  hang  by  teeth  an'  hair;  by  gar! 

T  'row  kisses  at  you,  too ! 


An'  w'en  my  eyes  light  on  dat  gairl, 

Julie  vas  gat  jealous ; 

She  mak'  de  lips  go  poutin',  so 

Vid  rage  she  nearly  bus'; 

An'  den  I  tak'  her  sof  w'ite  han' 

An'  hold  it  gentle  so, 

An'  try  to  feex  it  up  all  h 'right. 

But  fin'  it  quite  hard  go. 


Material  for  Interpretation  IS9 

Julie  vas  feel  moch  better 

Ven  dat  lady  go  avay, 

She  laugh  vid  me  at  funny  clown, 

At  all  de  t'ings  he  say. 

Mos*  excentrique  come  elephan', 

Stan'  right  out  on  his  head, 

An'  den  he  lay  upon  de  groun', 

Preten'  dat  she  is  dead. 

De  acrobat  he's  tumble  roun* 

All  overe  de  whole  place ; 

De  ring  man  shout  an'  crack  his  whip 

At  horses  in  de  race. 

Den  ve  take  in  de  concert  grand, 

An'  lak'  dat  might'  vel,  too, 

An'  w'en  ve  see  de  peoples  go, 

Ve  know  dat  show  was  t  'roo. 

An'  when  I'm  takin'  Julie  home — 
Dat  night  de  moon  was  shine — 
I'm  mak'  it  to  her  mighty  plain, 
I'm  ax  for  her  be  mine; 
But  Julie  say  she  very  'fraid, 
I'm  lof '  Ma'm'selle  Trapeese, 
Because  she  grand  an'  t'row  de  kiss 
(I'm  no  like  Julie  tease). 

An'  so  I  up  an'  tole  her 

Dat  I  lof  jus'  her  onlee. 

Her  cheeks  dey  blush  de  colour  rouge, 

Her  eyes  flash  lak'  de  sea, 

Her  lips  was  lak'  de  grand  sunset, 

I  can  no'  long'  keep  'vay — 

I'm  mak'  de  smack  right  on  de  spot. 

Oh,  vat  a  holiday! 


140  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

I'm  mak'  de  marry  quite  ver'  soon, 
An'  now  you  understan* 
Pourquoi  I  take  my  Julie  gairl 
Pour  cirque  at  OV  Ste.  Anne. 

Wallace  Bruce  Amsbary, 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  ''JULIE  PLANTE" 

(A  Legend  of  Lac  St.  Pierre) 

On  wan  dark  night  on  Lac  St.  Pierre, 

De  win'  she  blow,  blow,  blow, 

An'  de  crew  of  de  wood  scow  "Julie  Plante" 

Got  scar't  an'  run  below — 

For  de  win'  she  blow  lak  hurricane 

Bimeby  she  blow  some  more, 

An' de  scow  bus' up  on  Lac  St.  Pierre 

Wan  arpent  from  de  shore. 

De  captinne  walk  on  de  fronte  deck, 

An'  walk  de  hin'  deck  too — 

He  call  de  crew  from  up  de  hole 

He  call  de  cook  also. 

De  cook  she's  name  was  Rosie, 

She  come  from  Montreal, 

Was  chambre  maid  on  lumber  barge, 

On  de  Grande  Lachine  Canal. 

De  win'  she  blow  from  nor'-eas'-wes', — 
De  sout'  win'  she  blow  too, 
W'en  Rosie  cry  "Mon  cher  captinne, 
Mon  cher,  w'at  I  shall  do?" 


Material  for  Interpretation  141 

Den  de  Captinne  t'row  de  big  ankerre, 
But  still  the  scow  she  dreef, 
De  crew  he  can't  pass  on  de  shore, 
Becos'  he  los'  hees  skeef. 

De  night  was  dark  lak'  wan  black  cat, 

De  wave  run  high  an'  fas', 

Wen  de  captinne  tak'  de  Rosie  girl 

An'  tie  her  to  de  mas'. 

Den  he  also  tak'  de  life  preserve, 

An'  jomp  off  on  de  lak', 

An'  say,  ''Good-bye,  ma  Rosie  dear, 

I  go  drown  for  your  sak'." 

Nex'  morning  very  early 

'Bout  ha 'f -pas'  two — t'ree — four — 

De  captinne — scow — an'  de  poor  Rosie 

Was  corpses  on  de  shore. 

For  de  win '  she  blow  lak '  hurricane 

Bimeby  she  blow  some  more. 

An'  de  scow  bus'  up  on  Lac  St.  Pierre, 

Wan  arpent  from  de  shore. 

MORAL 

Now  all  good  wood  scow  sailor  man 

Tak'  warning  by  dat  storm 

An'  go  an'  marry  some  nice  French  girl 

An'  leev  on  wan  beeg  farm. 

De  win'  can  blow  lak  hurricane 

An'  s'pose  she  blow  some  more. 

You  can't  get  drown  on  Lac  St.  Pierre 

So  long  you  stay  on  shore. 

WiUicmi  H.  Drummond. 


SECTION  X 
SCANDINAVIAN 


SECTION  X 
SCANDINAVIAN 

SHERIDAN'S  RIDE 

Ep  yu  ban  vise,  and  ay  s'pose  yu  ban, 
You  know  'bout  Yeneral  Sheridan; 
But  maybe  yu  ant  remember  the  day 
Ven  he  yump  on  horse,  and  den  he  say, 
**Ay'm  yust  about  tventy-sax  miles  avay. 


>5 


Some  rebel  fallers  ban  start  big  row 
In  Vinchester.    Ay  ant  know  just  how, 
But  ay  tenk  de  yump  on  some  Yankee  guys, 
And  trying  to  give  dem  gude  black  eyes. 
So  Yeneral  Sheridan  hear  dese  guns. 
And  drank  some  coffee  and  eat  some  buns, 
And  tal  dis  har  landlord,  *'Gudeby,  Yack, 
Ay  skol  paying  my  bill  ven  ay  com  back!" 
Den  he  ride  so  fast  that  sune  he  say, 
**Val,  now  ay  ban  saxteen  miles  avay!'* 
Dese  cannons  ban  roaring  gude  and  loud — 
It  van  tough  game  for  dis  Yankee  crowd ; 
And  Lieutenant  Olson,  he  tal  his  pal, 
**Ay  tank  van  ban  due  to  run  lak  hal!" 
So  dey  start  to  run,  or  else  retreat — 
Dis  ban  noder  name  for  gude  cold  feet ; 
An'  dey  run  so  fast  sum  dey  can  go, 
Lak  Russians  luring  dese  Yaps,  yu  knew, 
145 


146  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

*  *  Yee  whiz ! ' '  say  Sheridan.    *  *  Yump,  old  hoss ! 

Ay  tenk  my  soldiers  get  double  cross. 

Ay  s'pose  youre  hoofs  getting  pnrty  sore, 

But  ve  only  got  'bout  sax  miles  more ! ' ' 

Val,  Yeneral  Sheridan  meet  his  men, 

And  he  say:    * 'It's  now  yust  half-past  ten. 

Ay  hope  ay  skol  never  go  to  heaven 

Ef  dose  Rebel  Svedes  ant  licked  by  eleven. 

Yust  turn  'round  now  in  yure  track ! 

Come  on,  yu  fallers!  Ve're  going  back!*' 

And  yu  bet  yure  life  they  vent  back,  tu, 

And  put  gude  crimp  in  dis  Rebel  crew. 

But  soldiers  ban  careless  sons  of  guns, 

And  the  yeneral  never  settled  for  buns. 

William  F.  Kirk. 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON 

Yeobge  Vashington  ban  honest  man. 
Ven  dis  har  country  first  began, 
Yeorge  ban  a  yen'ral,  and  yu  bet 
Dese  English  fallers  know  it  yet. 
Ven  he  ban  small,  his  fader  say, 
**Ef  yu  skol  breng  in  wood  to-day, 
And  feeding  cow  and  chickens,  tu. 
Ay  skol  yust  blow  myself  on  yu." 

Val,  sure  enuff,  ven  Yeorge  du  chore. 
His  fader  hike  for  hardvare  store, 
And  buy  gude  hatchet,  only  it 
Ban  second-hand  a  little  bit. 
Dar  ban  on  edge  some  little  dents, 
It  ban  marked  down  to  saxty  cents. 


Matenal  for  Interpretation  147 

He  pay  sax  cents  to  sharpen  axe, 
And  so  it  cose  him  saxty-sax. 
He  tak  it  home  to  Yeorgie,  tu, 
And  say,  '*Ay  ant  ban  fuling  you." 

Next  day  Yeorge  tak  his  hatchet  out, 
And  start  to  rubber  all  about 
For  someteng  he  can  chop,  yu  see. 
And  den  he  pipe  nice  cherry-tree. 
*  *  By  Yudas !    Dis  ban  soft ! ' '  say  he. 
Ef  dis  har  axe  ban  any  gude, 
Dis  tree  skol  sune  ban  kindling  wood." 
So  Yeorge  give  cherry-tree  gude  whack, 
And  sveng  dis  axe  lak  lumberyack; 
And  yust  ven  tree  ban  falling  down, 
His  fader  coming  back  from  town. 
Yeorge  see  old  yent  ban  standing  dar, 
Smoking  gude  fifteen-cent  cigar ; 
And  so  he  say:    **Val,  holy  yee! 
Ay  guess  the  yig  ban  op  with  me. 
Dear  fader,  Ay  chopped  down  dis  tree!" 

Dar  ban  gude  moral  har  for  youth: 
Ven  lie  ban  fulish,  tal  the  truth! 

WilUam  F,  Kirk. 

THE  BAREFOOT  BOY 

Blessings  on  yu,  little  man! 
Barefoot  boy,  ay  tenk  yu  can 
Getting  all  yu  lak,  by  yee! 
Yu  ban  gude  enuff  for  me. 
Yu  ant  got  so  many  clo'es, 
Dar  ban  freckles  on  yure  nose, 


148  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

And  ay  guess  yu're  purty  tuff, 
'Cause  yu  ask  for  chew  of  snuff. 
But,  by  yinks,  ay  lak  yure  face, 
Yu  can  passing  any  place. 

Barefoot  boy,  ef  ay  could  du 
Yenuine  po'try  lak  the  kind 
Maester  Vittier  wrote  for  yu. 
Ay  vould  write;  but  never  mind. 
Ay  can  tal  yu  vat  ay  know, 
Even  ef  dese  vords  ant  flow 
Half  so  slick  sum  poet's  song, 
Anyhow,  ay  don't  mean  wrong. 
Ven  ay  see  yu,  little  kid. 
Ay  skol  taking  off  my  lid. 
Oder  little  boys  ay  see 
Ant  look  half  so  gude  to  me. 

Some  of  dem  ban  rich  men's  boys, 
Who  ban  having  planty  toys, 
Vearing  nicest  clo'es  in  town, 
Lak  dis  little  Buster  Brown. 
Don't  you  care!    Ven  dey  grow  up^ 
And  ban  shining  at  pink  tea, 
Drenking  tea  from  china  cup, 
You  skol  give  dem  loud  tee-hee. 
You  skol  laugh  at  dis  har  mob 
Ven  dey  come  to  yu  for  yob. 
Barefoot  boy,  yu  ant  got  cent; 
But  ay  tal  yu  dis,  some  day 
Yu  got  chance  for  president 
Ef  dese  woters  com  yure  vay. 
Yust  keep  vistling  all  day  long, 
Yust  keep  senging  little  song, 


Material  for  Interpretation  149 

And  ef  jni  skol  alvays  love 
Some  one  who  ban  op  above, 
Who  ban  making  day  and  night, 
He  skol  fix  yu  out  all  right. 

WiUiam  F.  Kirk, 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH 

Miles  Standish  ban  having  a  courtship 
Ven  all  of  his  fighting  ban  tru; 
Maester  Longfaller  tal  me  about  it, 
And  so  ay  skol  tal  it  to  yu. 
He  say  to  his  roommate,  Yohn  Alden : 
**Yu  know  dis  Priscilla,  ay  s'pose. 
Last  week,  ven  ay  try  to  get  busy, 
Priscilla  yust  turn  op  her  nose." 

Yohn  Alden  ban  nervy  young  f aller. 
So  Standish  yust  tal  him :    '  *  Old  pal, 
Pleese  boost  me  to  dis  har  Priscilla, 
Yu  know  ay  can't  talk  wery  val. 
Please  tal  her  ay  ban  a  gude  soldier, 
And  say  ay  have  money  in  bank. 
Ay'd  du  dis  myself,  but,  ay  tal  yu, 
My  manners  in  parlor  ban  rank." 

So  Yohn  go  and  call  on  Priscilla, 

And  happen  to  finding  her  in; 

He  sit  close  beside  her  on  sofa. 

And  give  her  gude  lots  of  his  chin. 

*' Miles  Standish,"  he  say,  "ban  gude  f aller. 

Hot  stuff  vith  his  pistol  and  knife; 

And  so  ay  ban  coming  to  tal  yu 

He'd  lak  yu,  Priscilla.  for  vife," 


150  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Priscilla,  she  listen  to  Alden, 

And  den  give  him  cute  little  venk, 

And  say :    ' '  Vy  not  speak  for  yureself ,  Yohn  ? 

Miles  Standish  ban  lobster,  ay  tenk.'* 

So  Standish  get  double  crossed  planty; 

And  dat's  yust  vat  Ay  vant,  by  yee, 

Ef  ever  ay  get  any  faller 

To  doing  my  sparking  for  me ! 

William  F,  Kirk. 


ABOU  SWBN  ANSON 

Abou  Swen  Anson  (he  ban  yoUy  dog) 
Ban  asleep  von  night  so  sound  lak  log, 
Ven  all  at  vonee  he  tenk  it  sure  ban  day. 
**Ay  skol  vake  op  now,"  Maester  Anson  say. 
But,  ven  he  vake,  it  ant  ban  day  at  all, 
He  see  a  gude  big  light  right  close  to  vail, 
And  dar  ban  anyel  faller  with  stub  pen. 
**Gude  morning,  maester  anyel  man,"  say  Swen. 
**Ay  s'pose,"  he  tal  the  anyel,  *'yu  ban  har 
To  pay  me  visit.    Skol  yu  have  cigar  ? ' ' 
The  anyel  shake  his  head,  and  Abou  Swen 
Ask  him :    *  *  Val,  Maester,  vy  yu  com  har  den  ? 
Vat  skol  yu  write  in  dis  har  book  of  gold  ? '  * 
The  anyel  say,  ''All  fallers,  young  and  old. 
Who  go  to  church  and  prayer-meeting,  tu ; 
But  ay  ant  got  a  place  in  har  for  yu." 
**Ay  s'pose,"  say  Abou,  "yu  got  noder  book 
For  common  lumberyacks  vich  never  took 
Flyer  at  church  or  dis  har  Sunday-school, 
But  yust  try  hard  to  keeping  Golden  RulOc 


Material  for  Interpretation  151 

Ef  yn  got  dis  book,  Maester,  put  me  in!" 
Den  anyel  look  at  Abou,  and  he  grin. 
*  *  Abou, ' '  he  say, '  *  shak  hands.    Yu  talk  qvite  free 
But,  yiminy  Christmas,  yu  look  gude  to  me ! " 

William  F.  Kirh 


STEALING  A  RIDE 

YuMPiNG  over  crossings, 
Bumping  over  svitches, 
Till  ay  tenk  dis  enyine 
Going  to  fall  in  ditches; 
Hiding  vith  some  cattle. 
Ay  tenk   'bout  saxty-eight; 
Yiminy!     Dis  ban  yoUy, — 
Stealing  ride  on  freight. 

Ay  ban  yust  tru  treshing 
Op  in  Nort  Dakota ; 
Now  ay  guess  ay'm  going 
Back  to  old  Mansota. 
Now  dis  train  ban  stopping, 
'Bout  sax  hours  to  vait; 
Yiminy !    Dis  ban  yoUy,  — 
Stealing  ride  on  freight. 

Ay  skol  stretch  a  little 
Yust  to  tak  a  sleep 
Den  my  head  bump  into 
Gude  big  fader  sheep. 
Yee!    His  head  ban  harder 
Sum  a  china  plate; 
Dis  ban  yoUy  doings, — 
Stealing  ride  on  freight. 


152  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Yumping  over  crossings, 
Bumping  over  svitches 
Till  my  side  ban  getting 
Saxty-seven  stiehes. 
Ay  hear  brakeman  faller 
Say,  ''Yust  ten  hours  late!" 
It  ban  hal,  ay  tal  yu, 
Stealing  ride  on  freight. 

WiUiam  F.  Kirk. 

AI  TANK  SO 

The  naight  bene  fallin'  purty  fast, 
Ven  troo  the  town  a  faller  passed; 

A  youth  a  holdin'  in  hees  hand 
A  leeten  flag  an'  on  it  stand — 
*'Ai  tank  so!'* 

That  faller  he  bene  lukin'  sick, 

Jet  he  var  yumpin'  purty  quick; 
An'  laik  from  out  a  trombone  rung 

The  vords  from  that  Swede  faller 's  thung^ 
**Ai  tank  so!" 

An'  in  dthe  windows  var  the  laight 
A  shinin'  thru  so  varm  an'  braight; 

High  oop  dhat  hill  them  glaishers  shone, 
But  jet  that  faller  hae  bene  groan — 
**Ai  tank  so!" 

**Ju  batter  sthop,"  an  ole  man  said, 
'*Kom  back;  Ai  tank  ju  vill  git  ded; 

But  jet  he  pooshin'  raight  along, 

An'  he  bene  jellin'  gude  an  strong— 
**Ai  tank  so!" 


Material  for  Interpretation  153 

Hees  voman  opening  vide  her  mout, 
Bene  jellin'  **Yohn  du  skall  kike  out, 

Don't  go  oop  dar" — he  hearin*  her  voice, 
Bene  say:    **Ju  batter  stop  dhat  noise — 

Ai  tank  so ! '  * 

I 

A  leeten  fleeka  she  bene  cry: 

**Say,  Yohn,  how  kan  du  git  so  high?" 

An'  Yohn  say,  lukin'  kinda  sveet, 

**Bene  gittin*  dar  vid  bode  min  feet — 
Ai  tank  so ! ' ' 

An'  dhen  he  jick  along  ju  bat, 

A  climbin '  oop  thru  snow  an '  vet, 
Bene  jellin',  **Ai  kan  ickka  stop 

Till  Ai  bene  yumpin' on  the  top — 
Ai  tank  so ! ' ' 

Last  mornin'  Ai  bene  seein'  him, 

Hees  pants  bene  tore,  hees  eyes  been  dim ; 
Ai  say  tu  Yohn,  **Vad  skall  du  har, 
Now  tal  me,  har  du  bene  oop  dar?'* 
"Ai  tank  so!*' 

J.  B.  Babcoch. 


SECTION  XI 
IBISH 


SECTION  XI 

IRISH 

(See  also  "Modem  Literature  for  Oral  Interpretation,*' 
Johnson,  pages  100,  103,  106,  poetry.) 

THE  WISE  MAN 

Michael  has  a  book-shelf 
Stacked  amazin'  high! 
Michael  reads  in  sivin  tongues 
Wid  a  rheumy  eye! 

Faith,  he's  called  a  wise  man, 
Readin'  half  the  night; 
Delvin'  into  stoodjous  things 
Betther  kept  from  sight! 

Michael  spends  a  Spring  day 
Squintin'  o'er  a  script  — 
Michael  niver  kisst  a  gerri 
Warm  and  rosy-lipped! 

Faith,  IVe  studied  long,  now, 
Wimmen  and  their  ways — 
And  judgin'  where  it's  took  me 
Thim  were  stoodjous  days  I 

Little  rote  I've  learnt  me, 
Little  have  I  read — 
But  I  know  a  thing  or  two 
Not  in  Michael's  head! 

Arthur  Stringer. 
157 


158  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

THE  CUT  FINGER 

The  Gossoon  (weeping). 

It'sbleedinM    It's  bleedin'! 

The  Ould  Woman  (soothingly). 

An'  shure  me  lad,  'tis  bleedin'; 
But  come,  me  hearty,  laddy  buck,  be  brave  an'  do  not 
cry; 
A  lad  that's  learnin'  readin'  sh'u'd  be  far  beyant  the 
heedin ' 
Av  a  tiny  bit  o'  finger  cut  that  hurts  a  bit  foreby. 
Ere  ye  come  till  wan  an'  twinty 
Ye '11  be  havin'  hurts  in  plinty, 
An'  ye '11  learn  a  bit  o'  bleedin'  doesn't  mean  ye 're  goin* 
t'  die. 

The  Gossoon  (crying). 

It 's  bleedin ' !    It 's  bleedin ' ! 

The  Ould  Woman  (comfortingly). 

An'  shure  me  lad,  'tis  bleedin', 

But  he 's  me  slashing  buckeen,  an '  he  will  not  weep  at  all. 
A  rag  is  all  'tis  needin'  fer  t'  sthop  the  whole  proceedin' 
An'  shure  a  bit  o'  rosy  blood  won't  make  me  gossoon 
bawl. 
Fer  'tis  but  wan  way  av  knowin' 
Ye  have  good  red  blood  a-flowin' 
An'  a-workin'  all  inside  av  ye  t'  make  ye  strong  an' 
tall. 

The  Gossoon  (sobbing). 


Material  for  Interpretation  159 

It'sbleedinM    It'sbleedinM 

The  Ould  Woman  (lovingly). 

Aye,  aye,  me  lad,  'tis  bleedin', 

An'  some  foine  day  yer  heart  will  bleed  as  bleeds  the 
heart  av  me. 
The  Saints  ye  will  be  pleadin'  but   'tis  little  they'll  be 
heedin'. 
Fer  the  world  is  full  o'  bleedin'  hearts  on  either  side 
the  sea. 
An'  I'd  die  t'  aise  the  achin' 
When  ye  feel  yer  heart  a-breakin', 

But,  ah!  the  poor  ould  woman  won't  be  there  t'  torn- 
fort  ye. 

Ellis  Parker  Butler. 

THE  WISHING-BRIDGE 

'Tis  years  agone  I  saw  herself,  a  varm  and  wishful  day  in 

June — 
A  tourist  lady,  silken  fine,  and  me  the  ragged  wild  gossoon. 
I  ran  beside  her  stumbling  nag,  a  hard-mouthed  creature, 

old  and  slow. 
The  seven  murdering  Irish  miles  up  through  the  Gap  of 

old  Dunloe. 

And  him  that  rode  foreninst  herself,  and  edging  nearer 

all  the  while, 
The  fat-jowled,  ugly  old  mudhoon   (may  devil  take  his 

oily  smile!), 
I  saw  her  turn  her  head  aside  the  whiles  he'd  whisper  in 

her  ear ; 
I  saw  the  stricken  eyes  of  her,  so  lost  and  lone  and  filled 

with  fear. 


160  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

But  her  old  mother  rode  behind.    She  watched  her  like  a 

pouncing  hawk, 
And  purred  like  any  pussy-cat,  and  strained  her  ear  to 

catch  their  talk. 
His  words  were  fair  (bad  scram  to  him!),  but,  oh,  her 

mouth  that  drooped  forlorn ! 
Alone,  for  all  the  tourist  folk,  and  lonesome  as  the  moon  of 

dawn. 


**Now  sorrow  take  your  gold !"  thinks  I.    ** What's  jewels, 

lands,  and  satin  clothes? 
If  you  'd  be  King  of  France  itself,  'tis  like  a  pig  would  eat 

a  rose." 
The  furze  was  gleaming  in  the  sun,  and  when  we  climbed 

the  topmost  ridge, 
*  *  Miss  dear, ' '  I  points,  *  *  St.  Patrick 's  Lake !     'Tis  there  we 

cross  the  Wishing-bridge. " 

*'The  Wishing-bridge,"  she  says  and  smiles,  and,  oh,  her 

smile  was  worse  nor  tears! 
**Give  him  the  no.  Miss,  dear,"  I  says  too  low  for  any 

other  ears; 
And  then  rose-red  she  went,  the  lamb,  from  her  white  neck 

until  her  hair. 
And  ** Funny  Irish  boy,"  she  says,  **how  did  you  guess? 

How  do  you  dare?" 


**Alannah,  is  it  blind  I  am?    Sure,  he's  an  owl  if  you're 

a  lass. 
Lay  your  left  hand  upon  your  heart,  and  all  you  wish 

shall  come  to  pass. 


Material  for  Interpretation  161 

Not  while  the  furze  is  gold/'  I  says,  *' should  young  hearts 

ever  mate  with  old, 
Or  love  be  sold  for  pounds  or  pence — and,  faith,  the  furze 

is  always  gold." 


She  stayed  her  nag  upon  the  bridge ;  I  saw  her  half -scared 

glances  dart; 
She  fetched  a  long  and  quivery  breath;  she  laid  her  left 

hand  on  her  heart. 
I  saw  her  eyes  the  like  of  stars.     **Ochone,"  thinks  I, 

* '  sweet  saints  above ! 
Who  wouldn't  sell  his  soul  itself  to  be  the  man  you're 

thinking  of?" 


Then  he  caught  up  and  whispered  low,  but  *  *  No "  she  gave 

him,  loud  and  clear, 
Her  head  held  up  like  any  queen,  and  bold  enough  for  all 

to  hear; 
And  she  rode  on,  and  paid  no  heed  to  the  black  rage  behind 

her  there — 
The  purple,  poisonous  look  he  had,  the  mother  fit  to  tear 

her  hair. 


And  then  that  furze  was  twice  as  gold,  and  like  an  angel's 

cloak  the  skies. 
For  whiles  she  hummed  deludering  tunes,  and  whiles  she 

dreamed  with  misty  eyes. 
Too  soon  we  reached  Killarney's  Lake;  she  paid  me  well, 

and  went  her  ways, 
And,  oh,  the  liahc  was  on  her  face !    God  save  her  kindly 

all  her  days ! 


162  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Traveling  folk  come  year  by  year ;  I  guide  and  serve  them 

as  before. 
I  tell  them  tales,  I  earn  my  hire,  I  see  the  likes  of  her  no 

more. 
It  warms  me  now,  on  winter  nights,  to  mind  her  look  that 

day  in  June — 
A   tourist   lady,    silken   fine,    and   me   the    ragged   wild 

gossoon. 

Buth  Comfort  Mitchell. 

A  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHER 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen:  I  see  so  many  f oine-lookin ' 
people  sittin*  before  me  that  if  you'll  excuse  me  I'll  be 
after  takin '  a  seat  meself .  You.  don 't  know  me,  I  'm  think- 
ing, as  some  of  yees  'ud  be  noddin'  to  me  afore  this.  I'm 
a  walkin'  pedestrian,  a  travelin'  philosopher.  Terry 
0 'Mulligan's  me  name.  I'm  from  Dublin,  where  many 
philosophers  before  me  was  raised  and  bred.  Oh,  phil- 
osophy is  a  foine  study!  I  don't  know  anything  about  it, 
but  it's  a  foine  study!  Before  I  kim  over  I  attended  an 
important  meetin'  of  philosophers  in  Dublin,  and  the  dis- 
cussin'  and  talkin'  you'd  hear  there  about  the  world  'ud 
warm  the  very  heart  of  Socrates  or  Aristotle  himself. 
Well,  there  was  a  great  many  imminent  and  learned  min 
there  at  the  meetin',  and  I  was  there  too,  and  while  we 
was  in  the  very  thickest  of  a  heated  argument,  one  comes 
to  me  and  says  he,  **Do  you  know  what  we're  talkin' 
about?"  *'I  do,"  says  I,  *'but  I'd  not  know  could  you 
understand  or  not."  **Well,"  says  he,  ''we'll  see,"  says 
he.  Sure'n  I  didn't  know  anything,  how  to  get  out  of 
it  then,  so  I  piled  in,  **for,"  says  I  to  myself,  ** never  let 
on  to  any  one  that  you  don't  know  anything,  but  make 


Material  for  Interpretation  163 

them  believe  that  you  do  know  all  about  it.'*    So  says  I 

to  him,  takin'  up  me  shillalah  this  way   (holding  a  very 

crooked  stick  perpendicular),  *'Well  take  that  for  the 

straight   line   of   the    earth's   equator '* — Show's   that   for 

gehography?  (to  the  audience).    Ah,  that  was  straight  till 

the  other  day  I  bent  it  in  an  argument.     **Very  good,'* 

says  he.    **Well,"  says  I,  **now  the  sun  rises  in  the  east" 

(placing  the  disengaged  hand  at  the  eastern  end  of  the 

stick).    Well,  he  couldn't  deny  that.    **And  when  he  gets 

up  he 

Darts  his  rosy  beams 
Through  the  mornin^  gleams." 

Do  you  moind  the  poetry  there?  (to  the  audience  with  a 
smile).  ''And  he  keeps  on  risin'  and  risin'  till  he  reaches 
his  meriden."  ** What's  that?"  says  he.  ''His  dinner- 
toime,"  says  I;  "sure'n  that's  my  Latin  for  dinner-toime, 
and  when  he  gets  his  dinner 

He  sinks  to  rest 

Behind  the  glorious  hills  of  the  west. ' ' 

Oh,  begorra,  there's  more  poetry!  I  fail  it  creepin'  out  all 
over  me.  ' '  There, ' '  says  I,  well  satisfied  with  myself,  ' '  will 
that  do  for  ye?"  "You  haven't  got  done  with  him  yet," 
says  he.  "Done  with  him,"  says  I  kinder  mad  like; 
"what  more  do  you  want  me  to  do  with  him?  Didn't  I 
bring  him  from  the  east  to  the  west?  What  more  do  you 
want?"  "Oh,"  says  he,  "you'll  have  to  bring  him  back 
again  to  the  east  to  rise  next  momin'."  By  Saint  Patrick! 
and  wasn't  I  near  betrayin'  me  ignorance.  Sure'n  I 
thought  there  was  a  large  family  of  suns,  and  they  rise 
one  after  the  other.  But  I  gathered  meself  quick,  and,  says 
I  to  him,  "Well,"  says  I,  "I'm  surprised  you  axed  me 
that  simple  question.    I  thought  any  man  'ud  know,"  says 


164  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

I,  *'when  the  sun  sinks  to  rest  in  the  west — ^when  the  sun 
— '*  says  I.  **You.  said  that  before,"  says  he.  "Well,  I 
want  to  press  it  stronger  upon  you,"  says  I.  **When  the 
sun  sinks  to  rest  in  the  east — no — west,  why  he — why  he 
waits  till  it  grows  dark,  and  then  he  goes  hack  in  the 
noight  toimel'' 

T.  Maccahe. 

THE  EVENING  UP 

Whin  Shamus  0  'Regen  was  sellin '  me  hay. 
And  as  sheuch-rank  as  iver  was  mowed, 
He'd  seat  his  gerrl  Moira,  for  such  was  his  way, 
On  the  top  av  his  thimble-rig  load. 

And  he  'd  bring  me  his  scrapin  's  av  thistle  and  whin, 
And  I  'd  take  thim  wid  niver  a  word ; 
But  I'd  hold  for  a  breath,  as  the  cart  jolted  in, 
Moira 's  hand,  that  was  soft  as  a  bird. 

For  Moira  was  wishtful  and  white  as  the  May, 
And  her  eyes  they  would  throuble  your  heart 
Till  any  ould  bramble  seemed  special  fine  hay 
Wid  her  face  at  the  top  av  the  cart. 

Yet  me  horse  and  me  cattle  wint  lean  as  a  kite, 
Wid  their  feedin'  on  Shamus 's  hay. 
And  I'd  figure  me  loss  to  a  rick  over-night — 
But,  in  faith,  I  had  nothin'  to  say. 

For,  Moira  and  me,  we  secretly  met 

At  the  end  av  ould  Bally bree  Wall, 

And  she  gave  me  the  word  that  soon  made  me  forget 

I'd  iver  been  cheated  at  all! 

Arthur  Stringer. 


Material  for  Interpretation  165 

DROWNDED 

Tom  Cassidy  is  drownded — 

That  God  may  keep  his  soul. 

His  body  floats  in  the  deep  cold  sea, 

An'  only  the  herring  and  mackerel  shoal 

Can  tell  where  Tom  may  be. 

May  Christ  have  pity  on  his  soul, — 

An'  that  He'll  pity  me. 

Tom  threatened  that  he'd  bring  me 

Strange  shells  from  foreign  sands, 

An'  Chiney  silk  that  would  make  a  gown, 

With  three  ostrich  feathers  from  foreign  lands 

All  creamy  white  and  brown. 

My  grief !    I  stand  with  empty  hands, 

An'  him  and  all  gone  down. 

There's  none  can  ever  tell  me 

How  long  he  may  have  striven 

With  the  cold  black  waves  that  choked  his  life, 

An'  him  with  the  sins  on  his  soul  unshriven, 

In  that  his  mortal  strife. 

God's  mercy  on  the  unforgiven, 

And  me  his  promised  wife. 

My  curse  upon  the  ocean. 

My  curse  upon  the  wind! 

That's  taken  my  heart's  bright  core  on  me, 

An '  made  him  a  sepulchre  none  can  find 

But  them  that's  in  the  sea. 

Why  would  they  leave  the  old  behind 

And  take  the  young  and  free? 

W.  M.  Letts 


166  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 


**CUTTIN'  RUSHES'' 

Oh  maybe  it  was  yesterday,  or  fifty  years  ago ! 
Meself  was  risin '  early  on  a  day  for  cuttin '  rushes, 
Walkin'  up  the  Brabla'  burn,  still  the  sun  was  low, 
Now  I  'd  hear  the  burn  run  an'  then  I  'd  hear  the  thrushes. 
Young,  still  young  !-^an'  drenchin'  wet  the  grass, 
Wet  the  golden  honeysuckle  hangin'  sweetly  down; 
Here,  lad,  here !  will  ye  follow  where  I  pass, 
An'  find  me  cuttin'  rushes  on  the  mountain. 


Then  was  it  only  yesterday,  or  fifty  years  or  so? 
Rippin'  round  the  bog  pools  high  among  the  heather, 
The  hook  it  made  me  hand  sore,  I  had  to  leave  it  go, 
'T  was  he  that  cut  the  rushes  then  for  me  to  bind  together. 
Come,  dear,  come! — an'  back  along  the  burn 
See  the  darlin'  honeysuckle  hangin'  like  a  crown. 
Quick,  one  kiss, — sure,  there '  some  one  at  the  turn ! 
*'0h,  we  're  afther  cuttin'  rushes  on  the  mountain." 

Yesterday,  yesterday,  or  fifty  years  ago.  .  .  . 

I  waken  out  o '  dreams  when  I  hear  the  summer  thrushes. 

Oh,  that  's  the  Brabla'  burn,  I  can  hear  it  sing  an'  flow, 

For  all  that  's  fair,  I  'd  sooner  see  a  bunch  o '  green  rushes 

Run,  burn,  run !  can  ye  mind  when  we  were  young  ? 

The  honeysuckle  hangs  above,  the  pool  is  dark  an'  brown: 

Sing,  burn,  sing!  can  ye  mind  the  song  ye  sung 

The  day  we  cut  the  rushes  on  the  mountain? 

Mdra  O'Neill. 


Material  for  Interpretation  167 


ON  POLITICAL  PARADES 

Mr.  Hennessy,  wearing  a  silver-painted  stove-pipe  hat 
and  a  silver  cape  and  carrying  a  torch,  came  in,  looking 
much  the  worse  for  wear.  The  hat  was  dented,  the  cape 
was  torn,  and  there  were  marks  on  Mr.  Hennessy 's  face. 

** Where  ye  been?"  asked  Mr.  Dooley. 

**Ma-archinV'  said  Mr.  Hennessy. 

**Be  th'  looks  iv  ye,  ye  might  have  been  th'  line  iv 
ma-arch  f'r  th'  p'rade.    Who's  been  doin'  things  to  ye?'* 

**I  had  a  currency  debate  with  a  man  be  th'  name  iv 
Joyce,  a  towny  iv  mine,  in  th'  Audjioto-room  Hotel,"  said 
Mr.  Hennessy.  "Whin  we  got  as  far  as  th'  price  iv  wheat 
in  th'  year  iv  th'  big  wind,  we  pushed  each  other.  Give 
me  a  high  glass  of  beer.    I  'm  as  dhry  as  a  gravel  roof. ' ' 

**Well,"  said  Mr.  Dooley,  handing  over  the  glass,  **ye  're 
an  ol'  man,  and',  as  th'  good  book  says,  an  ol'  fool  is  th' 
worst  yet.  So  I  '11  not  thry  to  con-vince  ye  iv  th'  error  iv 
ye'er  ways.  But  why  anny  citizen  that  has  things  in  his 
head  shud  dhress  himself  up  like  a  sandwich-man,  put  a 
torch  on  his  shoulder,  an'  toddle  over  this  blessid  town  with 
his  poor  round  feet,  is  more  than  I  can  come  at  with  all  me 
intelligence. 

**I  agree  with  ye  perfectly,  Hinnissy,  that  this  here  is  a 
crisis  in  our  histhry.  On  wan  hand  is  arrayed  th'  Shylock 
an'  th'  pathrites,  an'  on  th'  other  side  th'  pathrites  an' 
th'  arnychists.  Th'  Constitution  must  be  upheld,  th' 
gover'mint  must  be  maintained,  th'  downthrodden  farmer 
an*  workin'man  must  get  their  rights.  But  do  ye  think, 
man  alive,  that  ye  're  goin'  to  do  this  be  pourin'  lard  ile 
fr'm  ye'er  torch  down  ye'er  spine  or  thrippin'  over  sthreet- 
car  tracks  like  a  dhray-horse  thryin'  to  play  circus?     Is 


168  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

th'  ConstituHon  anny  safer  to-night  because  ye  have  to 
have  ye'er  leg  amputated  to  get  ye'er  boot  off,  or  because 
Joyce  has  made  ye  'er  face  look  like  th '  back  dure-step  iv  a 
German  resthrant? 

"Jawnny  Mack  took  me  down  in  th'  afternoon  f'r  to 
see  th'  monsthrous  p'rade  iv  th'  goold  men.  It  was  a 
gloryous  spectacle.  Th'  sthreets  were  crowded  with  goold 
bugs  an'  women  an'  polismin  an'  ambulances.  Th'  procis- 
sion  was  miles  an'  miles  long.  Labour  an'  capital  marched 
side  be  side,  or  annyhow  labour  was  in  its  usual  place, 
afther  th'  capitalists.  It  was  a  noble  sight  f'r  to  see  th' 
employer  iv  workin'men  marchin'  ahead  iv  his  band  iv 
sturdy  toilers  that  to  rest  thimsilves  afther  th'  layboryous 
occupations  iv  th'  week  was  reelin'  undher  banners  that 
dhrilled  a  hole  in  their  stomachs  or  carryin'  two-be-four 
joists  to  show  their  allegiance  to  th'  naytional  honour.  A 
man  that  has  to  shovel  coke  into  a  dhray  or  sho^^e  lumber 
out  iv  th'  hole  iv  a  barge  or  elevate  his  profession  be 
carryin'  a  hod  iv  mort  to  th'  top  iv  a  laddher  doesn't 
march  with  th'  grace  iv  an  antelope,  be  a  blamed  sight. 
To  march  well,  a  man 's  feet  have  to  be  mates ;  an ',  if  he 
has  two  left  feet  both  runnin'  sideways,  he  ought  to  have 
intherference  boots  to  keep  him  fr'm  settin'  fire  to  his 
knees.  Whin  a  man  walks  as  if  he  expected  to  lave  a  leg 
stuck  in  th'  sthreet  behind  him,  he  has  th'  gait  proper  f'r 
half -past  six  o'clock  th'  avenin'  befure  pay-day.  But  'tis 
not  th'  prance  iv  an  American  citizen  makin'  a  gloryous 
spectacle  iv  himsilf." 

*  *  They  were  coerced, ' '  said  Mr.  Hennessy,  gloomily. 

** Don't  you  believe  it,"  replied  the  philosopher.  ''It 
niver  requires  coercion  to  get  a  man  to  make  a  monkey 
iv  himsilf  in  a  prisidintial  campaign.  He  does  it  as  aisily 
as  ye  dhrink  ye'er  liquor,  an'  that  's  too  aisy.     Don't  ye 


Material  for  Interpretation  169 

believe  thim  lads  with  lumber  ya-ards  on  their  necks  an' 
bar  Is  on  their  feet  was  co-erced.  There  wasn't  wan  iv 
thim  that  wuddn't  give  his  week's  wages  f  r  a  chanst  to 
show  how  many  times  he  cud  thrip  over  a  manhole  in  a 
mile.  No  more  co-erced  than  ye  are  whin  ye  r-run  down 
town  an'  make  an  ape  iv  ye'ersilf.  I  see  ye  marchin' 
away  fr'm  Finucane's  with  th'  Willum  J.  O'Briens.  Th' 
man  nex'  to  ye  had  a  banner  declarin'  that  he  was  no 
slave.  'Twas  th'  la-ad  Johnson.  He  was  r-right.  He  is 
no  slave,  an'  he  won't  be  wan  as  long  as  people  have 
washin'  to  give  to  his  wife.  Th'  man  I  see  ye  takin'  a 
dhrink  with  had  a  banner  that  said  if  th '  mines  was  opened 
th'  mills  would  be  opened,  too.  He  meant  be  that,  that  if 
money  was  plenty  enough  f'r  him  to  get  some  without 
wur-rukin',  he  'd  open  a  gin  mill.  An'  ye  ma-arrched 
afther  Willum  J.  O'Brien,  didn't  ye?  Well,  he  's  a  good 
la-ad.  If  I  didn't  think  so,  I  wudden't  say  it  until  I  got 
me  strength  back  or  cud  buy  a  gun.  But  did  Willum  J. 
O'Brien  march?  Not  Willie.  He  was  on  horseback;  an', 
Hinnissy,  if  dollars  was  made  out  iv  Babbit  metal,  an' 
horses  was  worth  sixty-sivin  cints  a  dhrove,  ye  cudden't 
buy  a  crupper." 

''Well,"  said  Mr.  Hennessy,  ''annyhow,  I  proved  me 
hathred  iv  capital." 

"  So  ye  did, ' '  said  Mr.  Dooley.  "  So  ye  did.  An '  capital 
this  afthemoon  showed  its  hatred  iv  ye.  Ye  ought  to 
match  blisters  to  see  which  hates  th'  worst.  Capital  is  at 
home  now  with  his  gams  in  a  tub  iv  hot  wather;  an'  whin 
he  comes  down  to-morrah  to  oppriss  labour  an'  square  his 
protisted  notes,  he  '11  have  to  go  on  all  fours.  As  f'r  you, 
Hinnissy,  if  't  will  aise  ye  anny ,  ye  can  hang  f  'r  a  few 
minyits  fr'm  th'  gas  fixtures.  Did  th'  good  Dimmycrats 
have  a  p'rade?" 


170  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

'*No,"  said  Mr.  Hennessy.  **But  they  rayviewed  th' 
day  procission  fr'm  th'  Paminer  House.  Both  iv  thim 
was  on  th*  stand.'* 

F.  P.  Duivne. 


THE  CHOICE 

Saint  Joseph,  let  you  send  me  a  comrade  true  and  kind, 
For  the  one  I  'm  after  seeking,  it  beats  the  world  to  find. 

There  's  Christy  Shee  's  a  decent  lad,  but  he  *s  too  lank  and 

tall; 
And  Shaneen  Burke  will  never  do,  for  he  *s  a  foot  too  small. 

John  Heffeman  has  gold  enough,  but  sure  he  'd  have  me  bet 
With  talkin'  of  the  wife  that  died  a  year  before  we  met. 

Young  Pat  Delaney  suits  my  mind,  but  he  's  a  thrifle  wild ; 
And  Tim  I  Ve  known  too  well  itself  from  since  I  was  a 
child. 

Old  Dennis  Morrissey  has  pigs,  and  cattle  in  the  byre, 
But,  someways,  I  don't  fancy  him  the  far  side  o'  the  fire. 

I  'd  have  Saint  Joseph  choose  me  a  comrade  rich  and 

kind — 
And  if  it 's  Terry  Sullivan — maybe  I  mightn't  mind. 

W.  M.  Letts. 

CHILDER* 

They're  longin'  for  a  wee  lad 
Up  in  Tullagh  Hail- 
Where  niver  wanst  a  cradle  was, 
An '  niver  child  at  all ! 


Material  for  Interpretation  171 

They're  shpeakin'  all  in  whispers, 
They're  threadin'  on  their  toes, 
An'  tin-and-twiuty  sewin '-gerrls 
Is  thrimmin'  satin  clothes! 

A  deal  av  fuss  an'  feathers 
Gintry  makes,  aroo, 
Wid  all  their  frightened  wimmen-folk 
When  wan  to  wan  is  two! 

They've  twinty-hundred  acres 
Hid  be  jealous  wall — 
Yet  niver  throd  a  little  foot 
Thro'  lonely  Tullagh  Hall! 

But  here  beneath  the  ould  thatch 
Childer'  come  so  fast 
In  faith,  we  put  the  first  t'bed 
For  room  to  rock  the  last ! 

Arthur  Stringer, 

BIRDS 

Sure  maybe  yeVe  heard  the  storm-thrush 

"Whistlin'  bould  in  March, 

Before  there'  a  primrose  peepin'  out, 

Or  a  wee  red  cone  on  the  larch ; 

Whistlin'  the  sun  to  come  out  o'  the  cloud, 

An'  the  wind  to  come  over  the  sea, 

But  for  all  he  can  whistle  so  clear  an'  loud, 

He's  never  the  bird  for  me. 

Sure  maybe  ye've  seen  the  song-thrush 
After  an  April  rain 

Slip  from  in-undher  the  drippin'  leaves, 
Wishful  to  sing  again ; 


172  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

An '  low  wi '  love  when  he 's  near  the  nest, 

An'  loud  from  the  top  o'  the  tree, 

But  for  all  he  can  flutter  the  heart  in  your  breast, 

He 's  never  the  bird  for  me. 

Sure  maybe  yeVe  heard  the  red-breast 
Singin'  his  lone  on  a  thorn, 
Mindin'  himself  o'  the  dear  days  lost, 
Brave  wid  his  heart  forlorn. 
The  time  is  in  dark  November, 
An'  no  spring  hopes  has  he: 
''Remember,"  he  sings,  "remember!" 
Ay,  thon's  the  wee  bird  for  me. 

Maira  O'Neill 


KING  0 'TOOLE  AND  HIS  GOOSE 

**By  Gor,  I  thought  all  the  world,  far  and  near,  heered 
o'  King  0 'Toole — ^well,  well,  but  the  darkness  of  mankind 
is  ontellible!  Well,  sir,  you  must  know,  as  you  didn't 
hear  it  afore,  that  there  was  a  king  called  King  0 'Toole, 
who  was  a  fine  ould  king  in  the  ould  ancient  times,  long 
ago ;  and  it  was  him  that  owned  the  churches  in  the  early 
days.  The  king,  you  see,  was  the  right  sort;  he  was  the 
rale  boy,  and  loved  sport  as  he  loved  his  life,  and  huntin' 
in  partic'lar;  and  from  the  risin'  of  the  sun,  up  he  got, 
and  away  he  wint  over  the  mountains  beyant  afther  the 
deer;  and  the  fine  times  them  woor. 

**"Well,  it  was  all  mighty  good,  as  long  as  the  king  had 
his  health;  but,  you  see,  in  coorse  of  time  the  king  grew 
ould,  by  raison  he  was  stiff  in  his  limbs,  and  when  he  got 
sthriken  in  years,  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  was  lost 
intirely  for  want  o'  divarshin,  bekase  he  couldn't  go  a 


Material  for  Interpretation  173 

huntin'  no  longer;  and,  by  dad,  the  poor  king  was  obleeged 
at  last  for  to  get  a  goose  to  divart  him.  Oh,  you  may 
laugh,  if  you  like,  but  it  's  truth  I  'm  tellin'  you;  and 
they  way  the  goose  divarted  him  was  this-a-way:  You 
see,  the  goose  used  for  to  swim  across  the  lake,  and  go 
divin  for  throut,  and  cotch  fish  on  a  Friday  for  the  king, 
and  flew  every  other  day  about  the  lake,  divartin'  the 
poor  king.  All  went  on  mighty  well,  antil,  by  dad,  the 
goose  got  sthriken  in  years  like  her  master,  and  couldn't 
divart  him  no  longer,  and  then  it  was  that  the  poor  king 
was  lost  complate.  The  king  was  walkin'  one  mornin'  by 
the  edge  of  the  lake,  lamentin'  his  cruel  fate,  and  thinkin' 
o'  drownin'  himself,  that  could  get  no  divarshun  in  life, 
when  all  of  a  suddint,  turnin'  round  the  corner  beyant, 
who  should  he  meet  but  a  might  dacent  young  man  comin' 
up  to  him. 

*  *  *  God  save  you, '  says  the  king  to  the  young  man. 

**  *God  save  you  kindly.  King  0 'Toole,'  says  the  young 
man.  *Thrue  for  you,'  says  the  king.  *I  am  King 
0 'Toole,'  says  he,  'prince  and  plennypennytinchery  o' 
these  parts,'  says  he;  'but  how  kem  ye  to  know  that?' 
says  he.     'Oh,  never  mind,'  says  Saint  Kavin. 

"You  see  it  was  Saint  Kavin,  sure  enough — the  saint 
himself  in  disguise,  and  nobody  else.  'Oh,  never  mind,' 
says  he,  'I  know  more  than  that.  May  I  make  bowld  to 
ax  how  is  your  goose.  King  0 'Toole?'  says  he.  'Bluran- 
agers,  how  kem  ye  to  know  about  my  goose?'  says  the 
king.  '  Oh,  no  matther ;  I  was  given  to  understand  it,  says 
Saint  Kavin.  After  some  more  talk  the  king  says,  'What 
are  you?'  'I  'm  an  honest  man,'  says  Saint  Kavin.  'Well, 
honest  man,'  says  the  king,  'and  how  is  it  you  make  your 
money  so  aisy?'  'By  makin'  ould  things  as  good  as  new,' 
says  Saint  Kavin.    *  Is  it  a  tinker  you  are  ? '  says  the  king. 


174  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

*No,'  says  the  saint;  'I  'm  no  tinker  by  thrade,  King 
O 'Toole;  I  Ve  a  better  tbrade  than  a  tinker/  says  he — 
Vhat  would  yon  say/  says  he,  'if  I  made  your  ould  goose 
as  good  as  newT 

**My  dear,  at  the  word  o'  making  his  goose  as  good  as 
new,  you  'd  think  the  poor  ould  king's  eyes  was  ready  to 
jump  out  iv  his  head.  With  that  the  king  whistled,  and 
down  kem  the  poor  goose,  all  as  one  as  a  hound,  waddlin' 
up  to  the  poor  cripple,  her  masther,  and  as  like  him  as 
two  pays.  The  minute  the  saint  clapt  his  eyes  on  the 
goose,  'I  '11  do  the  job  for  you,'  says  he,  'King  0 'Toole.* 
'By  Jaminee!^  says  King  0 'Toole,  'if  you  do,  bud  I  '11  say 
you  're  the  cleverest  fellow  in  the  sivin  parishes.'  'Oh, 
by  dad,'  says  Saint  Kavin,  'you  must  say  more  nor  that — 
my  horn  's  not  so  soft  all  out,'  says  he,  'as  to  repair  your 
ould  goose  for  nothin';  what  '11  you  gi'  me  if  I  do  the  job 
for  you? — that  's  the  chat,'  says  Saint  Kavin.  'I  '11  give 
you  whatever  you  ax,'  says  the  king;  'isn't  that  fair?' 
'Divil  a  fairer,'  says  the  saint;  'that  's  the  way  to  do 
business.  Now,'  says  he,  'this  is  the  bargain  I  '11  make 
with  you.  King  0 'Toole:  "Will  you  gi'  me  all  the  ground 
the  goose  flies  over,  the  first  offer,  afther  I  make  her  as 
good  as  new?'  'I  will,'  says  the  king.  'You  won't  go 
back  on  your  word?'  says  Saint  Kavin.  'Honor  bright!* 
says  King  0 'Toole,  howldin'  out  his  fist.  'Honor  bright,* 
says  Saint  Kavin,  back  again,  'it  's  a  bargain.  Come  here ! * 
says  he  to  the  poor  ould  goose — '  come  here,  you  unf ort  'nate 
ould  cripple,  and  it  's  I  that  '11  make  you  the  sportin* 
bird.'  With  that,  my  dear,  he  took  up  the  goose  by  the 
two  wings — 'Criss  o'  my  crass  an  you,'  says  he,  markin* 
her  to  grace  with  the  blessed  sign  at  the  same  minute — and 
throwin'  her  up  in  the  air,  'whew,'  says  he,  just  givin^ 
her  a  blast  to  help  her;  and  with  that,  my  jewel,  she  tuk 


Material  for  Interpretation  175 

to  her  heels,  flyin'  like  one  o'  the  aigles  themselves,  and 
euttin'  as  many  capers  as  a  swallow  before  a  shower  of 
rain. 

**Well,  my  dear,  it  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  the  king 
standin'  with  his  mouth  open,  lookin'  at  his  poor  ould 
goose  flyin'  as  light  as  a  lark,  and  betther  nor  ever  she 
was:  and  when  she  lit  at  his  fut,  patted  her  an  the  head, 
and  *Ma  vourneen/  says  he,  *but  you  are  the  darlint  o'  the 
world.'  *And  what  do  you  say  to  me,'  says  Saint  Kavin, 
*for  makin'  her  the  like?'  *By  gor,'  says  the  king,  *I  say 
nothin'  bates  the  art  o'  man,  barrin'  the  bees.'  *And  do 
you  say  no  more  nor  that?'  says  Saint  Kavin.  'And  that 
I  'm  behoulden  to  you,'  says  the  king.  *But  will  you  gi'e 
me  all  the  ground  the  goose  flew  over?'  says  Saint  Kavin. 
*I  will,'  says  King  0 'Toole,  'and  your  welkim  to  it,'  says 
be,  'though  it  's  the  last  acre  I  have  to  give.'  'But  you  '11 
keep  your  word  thrue?'  says  the  saint.  'As  thrue  as  the 
sun,'  says  the  king.  'It  's  well  for  you.  King  0 'Toole, 
that  you  said  that  word, '  says  he ;  '  for  if  you  did  n  't  say 
that  word,  the  devil  receave  the  hit  o'  your  goose  id  ever 
fly  again.'  When  the  king  was  as  good  as  his  word.  Saint 
Kavin  was  plazed  with  him,  and  thin  it  was  that  he  made 
himself  known  to  the  king.  'And,'  says  he,  'King  0 'Toole, 
you  're  a  decent  man,  for  I  only  kem  here  to  thry  you. 
You  don't  know  me,'  says  he,  'bekase  I  'm  disguised.' 
'  Musha !  thin, '  says  the  king,  '  who  are  you  ? '  '  I  'm  Saint 
Kavin,'  said  the  saint,  blessin'  himself.  'Oh,  queen  iv 
heaven ! '  says  the  king,  makin '  the  sign  o '  the  crass  betune 
his  eyes,  and  fallin'  down  on  his  knees  before  the  saint; 
'it  is  the  great  Saint  Kavin,'  says  he  'that  I  've  been  dis- 
coorsin'  all  this  time  without  known'  it,'  says  he,  'all  as 
one  as  if  he  was  a  lump  iv  a  gossoon? — and  so  you  're  a 
saint?'  says  the  king.    'I  am,'  says  Saint  Kavin.    'By  gor. 


176  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

I  thouglit  I  was  only  talking  to  a  dacent  boy/  says  the 
king.  *Well,  you  know  the  differ  now/  says  the  saint. 
*  I  'm  Saint  Kavin, '  says  he,  *  the  greatest  of  all  the  saints. ' 
And  so  the  king  had  his  goose  as  good  as  new,  to  divart 
him  as  long  as  he  lived :  and  the  saint  supported  him  afther 
he  kem  into  his  property,  as  I  tould  you,  until  the  day  iv 
his  death — and  that  was  soon  afther;  for  the  poor  goosa 
thought  he  was  ketchin'  a  throut  one  Friday;  but,  my 
jewel,  it  was  a  mistake  he  made — and  instead  of  a  throut, 
it  was  a  thievin'  horse-eel;  and  by  gor,  instead  iv  the 
goose  killin'  a  throut  for  the  king's  supper — ^by  dad,  the 
eel  killed  the  king's  goose — and  small  blame  to  him;  but 
he  didn't  ate  her,  bekase  he  darn't  ate  what  Saint  Kavin 
laid  his  blessed  hands  on. ' ' 

Samuel  Lover. 

THE  FAIR 

The  pick  o'  seven  counties,  so  they  're  tellin'  me,  was  there, 
Horses  racin '  on  the  track  and  fiddles  on  the  green, 
Flyin '  flags  and  blowin '  horns  and  all  that  makes  a  fair, 
I  'm  hearin'  that  the  like  of  it  was  something  never  seen. 

So  it  is  they  're  tellin  me, 
Girl  dear,  it  may  be  true — 
I  only  know  the  bonnet  strings 
Beneath  your  chin  were  blue. 

I  'm  hearin'  that  the  cattle  came  that  thick  they  stood  in 

rows. 
And  Doolan's  Timmy  caught  the  pig  and  Terry  climbed 

the  pole. 
They  're  tellin'  me  they  showed  the  cream  of  everything 

that  grows. 
And  never  man  had  eyes  enough  for  takin'  in  the  whole. 


Material  for  Interpretation  177 

So  it  is  they  *re  tellin'  me, 
Girl  dear,  it  may  be  so, 
I  only  know  your  little  gown 
Was  whiter  than  the  snow. 

They  're  tellin'  me  the  gentry  came  twenty  miles  about. 
And  him  that  came  from  Ballinsloe  sang  limpin'  Jamesey 

down, 
And  'twas  Himself,  no  less,  stood  by  to  give  the  prizes  out, 
They  're  tellin'  me  you  'd  hear  the  noise  from  here  to 

Dublin  town. 

So  it  is  they  're  tellin'  me, 
Girl  dear,  the  same  may  be, 
I  only  know  that  comin'  home 
You  gave  your  word  to  me. 

Theodosia  Garrison, 


SAYS  SHE 

My  Granny  she  often  says  to  me. 
Says  she,  '*You  're  terrible  bold. 
It  's  you  have  a  right  to  mend  your  ways 
Before  you  '11  ever  grow  old," 

Says  she. 
''Before  you  '11  ever  grow  old. 
For  it  's  steadfast  now  that  you  ought  to  be, 
An '  you  going  on  sixteen, ' '  says  she. 
''What  '11  you  do  when  you  're  old  like  me? 
What  '11  you  do?"  says  she. 

*'What  will  I  do  when  I  'm  old?"  says  I. 
"Och  Musha,  I  '11  say  my  prayers, 


178  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

I  11  wear  a  net  an'  a  black  lace  cap 
To  cover  my  silver  hairs, ' ' 

Says  I. 
*  *  To  cover  my  silver  hairs. 
When  I  am  as  old  as  Kate  Kearney's  cat  . 
I  '11  sell  my  dress  and  featherdy  hat, 
An'  buy  an  old  bedgown  the  like  o'  that, 
The  very  like  o'  that." 


My  Granny  she  sighs  and  says  to  me, 
**The  years  fly  terrible  fast, 
The  girls  they  laugh'  an  talk  with  the  boys, 
But  they  all  grow  old  at  last," 

Says  she. 
**They  all  grow  old  at  last. 
At  Epiphany  cocks  may  skip,"  says  she, 
**But  kilt  by  Easter  they  're  like  to  be. 
By  the  Hokey !  you  '11  grow  as  old  as  me. 
As  weak  an'  old,"  says  she. 


Maybe  you  tell  me  no  lie,"  says  I, 

**But  I  've  time  before  me  yet. 

There  's  time  to  dance  and  there  's  time  to  sing, 

So  why  would  I  need  to  fret  ? ' ' 

Says  I. 
**So  why  would  I  need  to  fret? 
Old  age  may  lie  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
'Twixt  hoppin'  and  trottin'  we  '11  get  there  still. 
Why  would  n  't  we  dance  while  we  have  the  will. 
Dance  while  we  have  the  will?" 

W.  M.  Letts. 


Material  for  Interpretation  179 

I  'LL  NIVER  GO  HOME  AGAIN 

I  'll  niver  go  home  again, 
Home  to  the  ould  sad  hills,  ^ 

Home  through  the  ould  soft  rain, 
Where  the  curfew  calls  and  thrills! 

For  I  thought  to  find  the  ould  wee  house, 
Wid  the  moss  along  the  wall! 
And  I  thought  to  hear  the  crackle-grouse, 
And  the  brae-birds  call! 

And  I  sez,  I  '11  find  the  glad  wee  burn, 
And  the  bracken  in  the  glen, 
And  the  fairy-thorn  beyont  the  turn. 
And  the  same  ould  men! 

But  the  ways  I  'd  loved  and  walked,  avick, 
Were  no  more  home  to  me, 
Wid  their  sthreets  and  turns  av  starin'  brick, 
And  no  ould  face  to  see ! 

And  the  ould  glad  ways  I  'd  belt  in  mind, 
Loike  the  home  av  Moira  Bawn, 
And  the  ould  green  turns  I  'd  dreamt  to  find, 
They  all  were  lost  and  gone ! 

And  the  white  shebeen  beside  the  leap 
Where  the  racin'  wathers  swirled 
And  the  burnin'  kelp-shmoke  used  to  creep— 
'T  is  now  another  world ! 

And  all  thrampled  out  long  years  ago 
By  feet  I  've  niver  seen 
Are  the  fairy-rings  that  used  to  show 
Along  the  low  boreen! 


180  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

And  the  bairns  that  romped  by  Tullagh  Bum 
Whin  they  saw  me  sthopped  their  play — 
Through  a  mist  av  tears  I  tried  to  turn 
And  ghost-like  creep  away! 

And  I  11  niver  go  home  again ! 
Home  to  the  ould  lost  years, 
Home  where  the  soft  warm  rain 
Drifts  loike  the  drip  av  tears! 

Arthur  Stringer. 

ON  CHARITY 

**Br-b-r!"  cried  Mr.  McKenna,  entering  stiffly  and 
spreading  his  hands  over  the  pot-bellied  stove.  **It  's 
cold.'* 

''Where?"  asked  Mr.  Dooley.    **Not  here/' 

''It  's  cold  outside,"  said  Mr.  McKenna.  "It  was  ten 
below  at  Shannahan's  grocery  when  I  went  by,  and  the 
wind  blowing  like  all  possessed.  Lord  love  us,  but  I  pity 
them  that  's  got  to  be  out  to-night. ' ' 

"Save  ye'er  pity,"  said  Mr.  Dooley  comfortably.  "It 
ain't  cowld  in  here.  There  's  frost  on  th'  window,  'tis 
thrue  for  ye;  an'  th'  wheels  has  been  singin'  th'  livelong 
day.  But  what  's  that  to  us?  Here  I  am,  and  there  ye 
are,  th'  stove  between  us  an'  th'  kettle  hummin'.  In  a 
minyit  it  '11  bile,  an'  thin  I  'U  give  ye  a  taste  iv  what  '11 
make  a  king  iv  ye. 

"Well,  tubby  sure,  'tis  thryin'  to  be  dhrivin'  a  coal 
wagon  or  a  sthreet-car;  but  'tis  all  in  a  lifetime.  Th' 
diff'rence  between  me  an'  th'  man  that  sets  up  in  th'  seat 
thumpin'  his  chest  with  his  hands  is  no  more  thin  th' 
diff'rence  between  him  an'  th'  poor  diwle  that  walks 
along  behind  th'  wagon  with  his  shovel  on  his  shoulder, 


Material  for  Interpretation  181 

an'  '11  thank  th'  saints  f  r  th'  first  chanst  to  put  tin 
ton  iv  ha-ard  coal  into  a  cellar  f 'r  a  quarther  iv  a  dollar. 
Th '  lad  afoot  invies  th '  dhriver,  an '  th '  dhriver  invies  me ; 
an'  I  might  invy  big  Cleveland  if  it  wasn't  f 'r  th'  hivinly 
smell  iv  this  here  noggin.  An'  who  does  Cleveland  invy? 
Sure,  it  'd  be  sacreliege  f 'r  me  to  say. 

*  *  Me  ol '  father,  who  was  as  full  iv  say  in 's  as  an  almanac, 
used  to  sink  his  spoon  into  th'  stirabout,  an'  say,  'Well, 
lads,  this  ain't  bacon  an'  greens  an'  porther;  but  it  '11  be 
annything  ye  like  iv  ye  '11  on'y  think  iv  th'  Cassidys.'  Th' 
Cassidys  was  th'  poorest  fam'ly  in  th'  parish.  They 
waked  th'  oldest  son  in  small  beer,  an'  was  little  thought 
of.  Did  me  father  iver  ask  thim  in  to  share  th '  stirabout  ? 
Not  him.  An'  he  was  the  kindest  man  in  th'  wurruld. 
He  had  a  heart  in  him  as  big  as  a  lump  iv  tuft,  but 
he  'd  say,  *Whin  ye  grow  up,  take  no  wan's  sorrows  to 
ye  'ersilf , '  he  says.  *  'T  is  th '  wise  man  that  goes  through 
life  thinkin'  iv  himself,  fills  his  own  stomach,  an'  takes 
away  what  he  can't  ate  in  his  pocket.'  An'  he  was  r-right, 
Jawn.  We  have  throubles  enough  of  our  own.  Th' 
wurruld  goes  on  just  th'  same,  an'  ye  can  find  fifty  men 
to  say  th'  lit'ny  f 'r  ye  to  wan  that  '11  give  ye  what  '11 
relieve  a  fastin'  spit.  Th'  dead  ar-re  always  pop'lar.  I 
knowed  a  society  wanst  to  vote  a  monyment  to  a  man  an' 
refuse  to  help  his  fam'ly,  all  in  wan  night.  'T  is  cowld 
outside  th '  dure,  ye  say,  but  't  is  war-rum  in  here ;  as ' 
I  'm  gettin'  in  me  ol'  age  to  think  that  the  diff'rence 
between  hivin  an'  hell  is  no  broader " 

Mr.  Dooley's  remarks  were  cut  short  by  a  cry  from  the 
back  room.  It  was  unmistakably  a  baby's  cry.  Mr. 
McKenna  turned  suddenly  in  amazement  as  Mr.  Dooley 
bolted. 

"Well,  in  the  name  of  the  saints,  what  's  all  this?"  he 


182  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

cried,  following  his  friend  into  the  back  room.  He  found 
the  philosopher,  with  an  expression  of  the  utmost  sternness, 
sitting  on  the  side  of  his  bed,  with  a  little  girl  of  two  or 
three  in  his  arms.    The  philosopher  was  singing : — 

*'Ar-rah  rack-a-bye-babby,  on  th'  three  top: 
Whin  th'  wind  blo-ows,  th'  cradle  uU  r-rock; 
An',  a-whin  th'  bough  breaks,  th'  cradle  uU  fa-a-a-11, 
An'  a-down  uU  come  babby,  cradle,  an'  all." 

Then  he  sang : — 

' '  In  th '  town  iv  Kilkinny  there  du-wilt  a  fair  ma-aid, 
In  th'  town  iv  Kilkinny  there  du-wilt  a  fair  ma-aid, 
She  had  cheeks  like  th'  roses,  and  hair  iv  th'  same, 
An'  a  mouth  like  ripe  strawburries  burrid  in  crame." 

He  rocked  the  child  to  and  fro,  and  its  crying  ceased 
while  he  sang ; — 

**Chip,  chip,  a  little  horse; 
Chip,  chip,  again,  sir, 
How  many  miles  to  Dublin? 
Threescure  an'  tin,  sir." 

The  little  girl  went  to  sleep  on  Mr.  Dooley*s  white  apron. 
He  lifted  her  tenderly,  and  carried  her  over  to  his  bed. 
Then  he  tiptoed  out  with  an  apprehensive  face,  and  whis- 
pered :  *  *  It  's  Jawn  Donahue 's  kid  that  wandhered  away 
fr'm  home,  an'  went  to  sleep  on  me  dure-step.  I  sint  th' 
Dorsey  boy  to  tell  th'  mother,  but  he  's  a  long  time  gone. 
Do  ye  run  over,  Jawn,  an'  lave  thim  know." 

F.  P.  Dunne, 


OULD  DOCTOR  MA'GINN 

The  ould  doctor  had  only  wan  faUin', 
It  stayed  wid  him,  faith,  till  he  died ; 
And  that  was  the  habit  av  wearin' 
His  darby  a  thrifle  wan  side ! 


Material  for  Interpretation  183 

And  twenty  times  daily  't  was  straightened. 

But  try  as  he  would  for  a  year, 

Not  thinkin',  he  'd  give  it  a  teether 

A  thrifle  down  over  wan  ear ! 

It  sat  him  lop-sided  and  aisy; 
It  troubled  his  kith  and  his  kin — 
But  och,  't  was  the  only  thing  crooked 
About  our  ould  Doctor  Ma'Ginn! 

And  now  that  he  *s  gone  to  his  Glory — 
Excuse  me,  a  bit  av  a  tear — 
Here  's  twenty  to  wan  that  his  halo 
Is  slantin  *  down  over  his  ear ! 

Arthur  Stringer. 


A  DONEGAL  FAIRY 

Ay,  it  's  a  bad  thing  to  displeasure  the  gentry,  sure 
enough — ^they  can  be  unfriendly  if  they  're  angered,  an' 
they  can  be  the  very  best  o'  gude  neighbors  if  they  *re 
treated  kindly. 

My  mother's  sister  was  her  lone  in  the  house  one  day, 
wi'  a'  big  pot  o'  water  boiling  on  the  fire,  and  ane  o'  the 
wee  folk  fell  down  the  chimney,  and  slipped  wi'  his  leg 
in  the  hot  water. 

He  let  a  terrible  squeal  out  o'  him,  an'  in  a  minute  the 
house  was  full  o'  wee  crathurs  pulling  him  out  o'  the  potj 
an'  carrying  him  across  the  floor. 

**Did  she  scald  you?"  my  aunt  heard  them  saying  to 
him. 

**Na,  na,  it  was  mysel'  scalded  my  ainsel',"  quoth  the 
wee  fellow. 


184  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

'*A  weel,  a  weel."  says  they.  ''If  it  was  your  ainsel' 
scalded  yoursel',  we  '11  say  nothing,  but  if  she  had  scalded 
you,  we  'd  ha'  made  her  pay. 

Letitia  MacLintock. 


TOMORROW 

I.  Her,  that  yer  Honor  was  spakin'  to?     Whin,  yer 

Honor?  last  year — 
Standin'  here  be  the  bridge,  when  lajst  yer  Honor 

was  here  ? 
An'  yer  Honer  ye  gev  her  the  top  of  the  mornin', 

*'Tomorra,"  says  she. 
What  did  they  call  her,  yer  Honor?     They  called 

her  Molly  Magee.  .  .  . 

II.  Shure,  an '  meself  renumbers  wan  night  comin '  down 

be  the  sthrame, 
An'  it  seems  to  me  now  like  a  bit  of  histher-day  in 

a  dhrame — 
Here  where  yer  Honor  seen  her — there  was  but  a 

slip  of  a  moon, 
But  I  heard  thim — Molly  Magee  wid  her  batchelor, 

Danny  O'Roon — 
**You  've  been  takin'  a  dhrop  o'  the  crathur,"  an' 

Danny  says,  ''Troth,  an'  I  been 
Dhrinkin'  yer  health  wid  Shamus  O'Shea  at  Katty's 

•   shebeen ; 
But  I  must  be  lavin'  ye  soon."     "Ochone  are  ye 

goin'  away?" 
* '  Goin '  to  cut  the  Sassenach  whate, ' '  he  says,  * '  Over 

the  say" — 


Material  for  Interpretation  185 

**An*  whin  will  ye  meet  me  aginT'  an'  I  hard  him 
''Molly  asthore, 

I'll  meet  you  agin  tomorra,"  says  he,  *'be  the  chapel- 
door." 

*'An'  whin  are  ye  goin'  to  lave  me?"  "0'  Monday 
mornin',"  says  he; 

**An  shure  thin  ye  '11  meet  me  tomorra?"  "To- 
morra, tomorra,  Machree!" 

Thin  Molly's  ould  mother,  yer  Honor,  that  had  no 
likin'  for  Dan, 

Call'd  from  her  cabin  an'  tould  her  to  come  away 
from  the  man, 

An'  Molly  Magee  kem  flyin'  acrass  me,  as  light  as 
a  lark, 

An'  Dan  stood  there  for  a  minute,  an'  thin  wint  into 
the  dark. 

But  wirrah !  the  storm  that  night — the  tundher,  an ' 
rain  that  fell. 

An'  the  sthrames  runnin'  down  at  the  back  o'  the 
glin  'ud  'a  dhrownded  Hell. 

III.  But  airth  was  at  pace  nixth  mornin',  an'  Hiven  in 

its  glory  smiled. 
As  the  Holy  Mother  o'  Glory  that  smiles  at  her 

sleepin'  child — 
Ethen — she  stept  on  the  chapel-green,  an '  she  turn  'd 

herself  roun' 
Wid  a  diamond  dhrop  in  her  eye,  for  Danny  was 

not  to  be  foun'. 
An'  many  's  the  time  that  I  watch 'd  her  at  mass 

lettin'  down  the  tear, 
For  the  Divil  a  Danny  was  there,  yer  Honor,  for 

forty  year. 


186  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

IV.  Och,  Molly  Magee,  wid  the  red  o'  the  rose  an'  the 

white  o'  the  May, 
An'  yer  hair  as  black  as  the  night,  an'  yer  eyes  as 

bright  as  the  day!  .  .  . 
An'  sorra  the  qneen  wid  her  scepter  in  sich  an 

illigant  han', 
An'  the  fall  of  yer  foot  in  the  dance  was  as  light 

as  snow  an  the  Ian'.  .  .  . 

V.  An'  the  boys  wor  about  her  agin  whin  Dan  didn't 

come  to  the  fore, 
An'  Shamus  along  wid  the  rest,  but  she  put  thim 

all  to  the  door. 
An',  afther,  I  thried  her  meself  av  the  bird   'ud 

come  to  me  call, 
But  Molly,  begorrah,  'ud  listhen  to  naither  at  all, 

at  all.  .  .  . 

VI.  An'  afther  her  paarints  had  inter 'd  glory,  an'  both 

in  wan  day, 
She  began  to  spake  to  herself,  the   crathur,   an' 

whispher,  an'  say 
**Tomorra,  Tomorra!"  an'  Father  Molowny  he  tuk 

her  in  han', 
** Molly,  you  're  manin',"  he  says,  "me  dear,  av  I 

undherstan ', 
That  ye  '11  meet  your  paarints  agin  an'  yer  Danny 

O'Roon  afore  God 
Wid  his  blessed  Marthyrs  an'  Saints";  an'  she  gev 

him  a  frindly  nod, 
** Tomorra,    Tomorra,"   she   says,    an'   she    didn't 

intind  to  desave. 
But  her  wits  wor  dead,  an'  her  hair  was  as  white 

as  the  snow  an  a  grave. 


Material  for  Interpretation  187 

VII.  Arrah  now,  here  last  month  they  wor  diggin'  the 

bog,  an'  they  foun' 
Dhrownded  in  black  bog-wather  a  corp  lyin '  undher 

gronn'.  .  .  . 
An'  they  laid  this  body  they  foun'  an  the  grass 
Be  the  chapel-door,  an'  the  people  'ud  see  it  that 

wint  into  mass — 
But  a  frish  gineration  had  riz,  an'  most  of  the  ould 

was  few, 
An'  I  didn't  know  him  meself,  an'  none  of  the 

parish  knew. 

VIII.  But  IMolly  kem  limpin'  up  wid  her  stick,  she  was 

lamed  iv  a  knee. 
Thin  a  slip  of  a  gossoon  call'd,  "Div  ye  know  him, 

Molly  Magee?" 
An'  she  stood  up  straight  as  the  Queen  of  the  world 

— she  lifted  her  head — 
*'He  said  he  would  meet  me  tomorra!"  an'  dhropt 

down  dead  an  the  dead. 

IX.  Och,  Molly,  we  thought,  machree,  ye  would  start 

back  agin  into  life, 
Whin  we  laid  yez,  aich  be  aich,  at  yer  wake  like 

husban'  an'  wife, 
Sorra  the  dhry  eye  thin  but  was  wet  for  the  frinds 

that  was  gone! 
Sorra    the    silent    throat   but   we    hard    it    cryin' 

''Ochone!" 
An'  Shamus  O'Shea  that  has  now  ten  childr'  han'- 

some  an'  tall, 
Him  an'  his  childer  wor  keenin'  as  if  he  had  lost 

thim  all. 


188  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

X.  Thin  his  River ence  buried  thim  both  in  wan  grave 
be  the  dead  boor-tree, 
The  young  man  Danny  0  'Roon  wid  his  ould  woman, 

Molly  Magee.  .  .  . 
An'  now  that  I  tould  yer  Honor  whatever  I  hard 

an'  seen, 
Yer  Honor  '11  give  me  a  thrifle  to  dhrink  yer  health 
in  potheen. 

Alfred  Tennyson, 

CLOIDNA  OF  THE  ISLE 

I  HAD  me  bit  av  hay-land  callin'  for  the  scythe, 

When   who   should   hurry   hillward,    wishtful-loike,    and 

blithe, 
But  Cloidna  av  the  Isle,  that  gerrl  av  pink  an '  white, 
Wid  eyes  av  Irish  blue  an '  hair  as  black  as  night !  .  .  . 
I  had  me  hay  to  mow  an'  gather  into  rick, 
But  when  ye  talk  wid  handsome  gerrls,  och,  time  goes 

quick ! 

'*Aroo,"  says  she  to  me,  wid  her  slow  and  meltin'  shmile, 
*  *  I  'm  lookin '  for  a  man,  this  many  an '  many  a  mile ! 
* '  Me  hay  's  all  ripe, ' '  says  she ;  ' '  whativer  will  I  do 
Widout  a  bit  av  help?"  .  .  .  Bedad,  her  eye  was  blue! 

Och,  what  's  the  use  av  moilin'  till  your  life  's  all  done! 
An '  what  's  a  rick  or  two,  beside  a  bit  av  fun  I 
I  swung  me  singin '  scythe  thro '  Cloidna 's  fields  o '  hay, 
An'  wid  it  swung  me  singin'  heart  each  livelong  day. 
An'  on  me,  iv'ry  swath,  she  shmiled  wid  tender  eyes  .  .  . 
"Faith,  when  you  're  wid  a  handsome  woman,  how  time 
flies! 

Arthur  Stringer. 


Material  for  Interpretation  189 

CORRYMEELA 

Over  here  in  England  I  'm  helpin'  wi*  the  hay, 
An'  I  wisht  I  was  in  Ireland  the  livelong  day; 
Weary  on  the  English  hay,  an '  sorra  take  the  wheat ! 
Och !  Corrymeela  an '  the  blue  sky  over  it. 

There '  a  deep  dumb  river  flowin '  by  beyont  the  heavy  trees, 
This  livin'  air  is  moithered  wi'  the  bummin'  o'  the  bees; 
I  wisht  I  'd  hear  the  Claddagh  bum  go  runnin'  through 

the  heat 
Past  Corrymeela,  wi'  the  blue  sky  over  it. 

The  people  that  's  in  England  is  richer  nor  the  Jews, 
There'  not  the  smallest  young  gossoon  but  thravels  in  his 

shoes ! 
I  'd  give  the  pipe  between  me  teeth  to  see  a  barefut  child, 
Och!  Corrymeela  an'  the  low  south  wind. 

Here  's  hands  so  full  o'  money  an'  hearts  so  full  o'  care, 
By  the  luck  o'  love !  I  'd  still  go  light  for  all  I  did  go  bare. 
*'God  save  me,  colleen  dhas,"  I  said:  the  girl  she  thought 

me  wild. 
Far  Corrymeela,  an'  the  low  south  wind. 

D'ye  mind  me  now,  the  song  at  night  is  mortial  hard  to 

raise. 
The  girls  are  heavy  goin '  here,  the  boys  are  ill  to  plase ; 
When  one'st  I  'm  out  this  workin'  hive,  'tis  I  '11  be  back 

again — 
Ay,  Corrymeela,  in  the  same  soft  rain. 


190  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

The  puff  o'  smoke  from  one  ould  roof  before  an  English 

town! 
For  a  shaugh  wid  Andy  Feelan  here  I  'd    ;ive  a  silver 

crown, 
For  a  curl  o '  hair  like  Mollie  's  ye  '11  ask  the  like  in  vain, 
Sweet  Corrymeela,  an '  the  same  soft  rain. 

Moira  O'Neill. 

NEW  YEAR'S  RESOLUTION 

*Tis  a  bad  spell  iv  weather  we  're  havin'?  Faith,  it  is, 
or  else  we  mind  it  more  thin  we  did.  I  can't  remimber 
wan  day  f r  'm  another.  Whin  I  was  young,  I  niver  thought 
iv  rain  or  snow,  cold  or  heat.  But  now  th'  heat  stings,  an' 
th'  cold  wrenches  me  bones;  an',  if  I  go  out  in  th'  rain  with 
less  on  me  thin  a  ton  iv  rubber,  I  '11  pay  dear  f 'r  it  in 
achin'  j'ints,  so  I  will.  That  's  what  old  age  means;  an' 
now  another  year  has  been  put  on  to  what  we  had  before, 
an'  we're  expected  to  be  gay.  **Ring  out  th'  old,"  says  a 
guy  at  th'  Brothers'  School.  *'Ring  out  th'  old,  ring  in 
th'  new,"  he  says.  ''Ring  out  th'  false,  ring  in  th' 
thrue,"  says  he.  It  's  a  pretty  sintimint,  but  how  ar-re 
we  goin'  to  do  it?  Nawthin  'd  please  me  betther  thin  to 
turn  me  back  on  th'  wicked  an'  ingloryous  past,  rayform 
me  life,  an'  live  at  peace  with  th'  wurruld  to  th'  end  iv 
me  days.  But  how  th'  divvle  can  I  do  it?  As  th'  fellow 
says,  *'Can  th'  leopard  change  his  spots,"  or  can't  he? 

You  know  Dorsey,  iv  course,  th'  cross-eyed  May-o  man 
that  come  to  this  counthry  about  wan  day  in  advance  iv  a 
warrant  f  'r  sheep-stealin '  ?  Ye  know  what  he  done  to  me, 
tellin'  people  I  was  caught  in  me  cellar  poorin'  wather 
into  a  bar'l?  Well,  last  night  says  I  to  mesilf,  thinkin'  iv 
Dorsey,  I  says:  *'I  swear  that  henceforth  I  '11  keep  me 
temper  with  me  fellow-men.    I  '11  not  let  anger  or  jealousy 


Material  for  Interpretation  191 

get  th'  betther  iv  me/'  I  says.  *'I  '11  lave  off  all  me  old 
feuds;  an',  if  I  meet  me  inimy  goin'  down  th'  sthreet,  I  '11 
go  up  an'  shake  him  be  th'  hand,  if  I  'm  sure  he  has  n't  a 
brick  in  th'  other  hand."  Oh,  I  was  mighty  complimen- 
thry  to  mesilf.  I  set  be  th'  stove  dhrinkin'  hot  wans,  an' 
ivry  wan  I  dhrunk  made  me  more  iv  a  pote.  'T  is  th'  way 
with  th'  stuff.  Whin  I  'm  in  dhrink,  I  have  manny  a  fine 
thought;  an'  if  I  wasn't  too  comfortable  to  go  an'  look 
f 'r  th'  ink-bottle,  I  cud  write  pomes  that  'd  make  Shake- 
speare an'  Mike  Scanlan  think  they  were  wur-rkin'  on  a 
dredge.  **Why,"  says  I,  ''carry  into  th'  new  year  th' 
hathreds  iv  th'  old?"  I  says.  ''Let  th'  dead  past  bury  its 
dead,"  says  I.  "Tur-rn  ye'er  lamps  up  to  th'  blue  sky," 
I  says.  (It  was  rainin'  like  th'  divvle,  an'  th'  hour  was 
midnight;  but  I  give  no  heed  to  that,  bein'  comfortable 
with  th'  hot  wans.)  An'  I  wint  to  th'  dure,  an',  whin 
Mike  Duffy  come  by  on  number  wan  hundred  an'  five, 
ringing '  the  gong  iv  th '  ca-ar,  I  hollered  to  him :  ' '  Ring  out 
th'  old,  ring  in  th'  new."  "Go  back  into  ye'er  stall,"  he 
says,  "an'  wring  ye-ersilf  out,"  he  says.  "Ye'er  wet 
through,"  he  says. 

Whin  I  woke  up  this  mornin',  th'  pothry  had  all  dis- 
appeared, an'  I  began  to  think  th'  las'  hot  wan  I  took  had 
somethin'  wrong  with  it.  Besides,  th'  lumbago  was 
grippin'  me  till  I  cud  hardly  put  wan  foot  befure  th' 
other.  But  I  remimbered  me  promises  to  mesilf,  an'  I 
wint  out  on  th'  sthreet,  intindin'  to  wish  ivry  wan  a 
"Happy  New  Year,"  an'  hopin'  in  me  hear-rt  that  th' 
first  wan  I  wished  it  to'd  tell  me  to  go  to  th'  diwle,  so  I 
cud  hit  him  in  th'  eye.  I  had  n't  gone  half  a  block  befure 
I  spied  Dorsey  acrost  th'  sthreet.  I  picked  up  a  half  a 
brick  an'  put  it  in  me  pocket,  an'  Dorsey  done  th'  same. 
Thin  we  wint  up  to  each  other.    "A  Happy  New  Year," 


192  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

eays  I.     "Th'  same  to  you,"  says  lie,  **an'  manny  iv 

thim,"  he  says.    ''Ye  have  a  brick  in  ye'er  hand,"  says  I. 

*'I  was  thinkin'  iv  givin'  ye  a  New  Year's  gift,"  says  he. 

**Th'  same  to  you,  an'  manny  iv  thim,"  says  I,  fondlin' 

me  own  ammunition.     * '  'T  is  even  all  around, ' '  says  he. 

"It  is,"  says  I.    "I  was  thinkin'  las'  night  I  'd  give  up 

me  gredge  again  ye,"  says  he.    ''I  had  th'  same  thought 

mesilf,"  says  I.     "But,  since  I  seen  ye'er  face,"  he  says, 

*'I  've  con-eluded  that  I  'd  be  more  comfortable  hatin'  ye 

thin  havin'  ye  f 'r  a  frind,"  says  he.     ''Ye  're  a  map  iv 

taste,"  says  I.     An'  we  backed  away  fr'm  each  other. 

He  's  a  Tip,  an '  can  t  'row  a  stone  like  a  rifleman ;  an '  I  'm 

somethin'  iv  an  amachoor  shot  with  a  half -brick  mesilf. 

Well,  I  've  been  thinkin'  it  over,  an'  I  've  argied  it  out 

that  life  'd  not  be  worth  livin '  if  we  did  n  't  keep  our 

inimies.    I  can  have  all  th'  f rinds  I  need.    Anny  man  can 

that  keeps  a  liquor  sthore.     But  a  rale  sthrong  inimy, 

specially  a  May-o  inimy, — wan  that  hates  ye  ha-ard,  an' 

that  ye  'd  take  th'  coat  off  yer  back  tcy  do  a  bad  tur-rn 

to, — is  a  luxury  that  I  can't  go  without  in  me  ol'  days. 

Dorsey  is  th'  right  sort.    I  can't  go  by  his  house  without 

bein'  in  fear  he  '11  spill  th'  chimbly  down  on  me  head; 

an',  whin  he  passes  my  place,  he  walks  in  th'  middle  iv  th' 

sthreet,  an'  crosses  himself.     I  '11  swear  off  on  annything 

but  Dorsey.    He  's  a  good  man,  an'  I  despise  him.    Here  's 

a  long  life  to  him.  t,.  ,       t^    r, 

Fmley  P.  Dunne. 

PAT  MAGEE 

Walkin'  wid  Pat  Magee 

Down  by  the  Tullagh  bog, 

* '  Mind  where  ye  're  settin '  yere  shteps, ' '  says  he 

**Lest  yez  put  per  foot  on  a  frog. 


Material  for  Interpretation  193 

Frogs  is  the  divil,"  he  says, 
"I  'm  thinkinV'  he  says,  says  he, 
' '  Av  I  carried  yez  over  to  yondher  wall 
The  sorrow  a  frog  we  'd  see/' 

Sittin'  wid  Pat  Magee 

Atop  of  a  loose  built  wall, 

**It  's  unaisy  I  am  in  me  mind,''  says  he^ 

**Dhreadin'  the  stones  might  fall. 

Stones  is  the  divil  to  slip. 

I  'm  thinkinV'  he  says,  says  he, 

**Av  I  gave  yer  waist  a  bit  av  a  clip 

The  sorrow  a  fear  there  'd  be." 

Talkin'  wid  Pat  Magee, 

Wid  the  arm  af  hira  round  me  waist 

An'  the  red  sun  sinkin',  "Agrah,"  says  he, 

**Will  yez  let  me  shpake  to  the  praste? 

Delays  is  the  divil's  delight. 

An'  I  'm  thinkin',"  he  says,  says  he, 

**Av  the  two  av  us  settle  this  matther  to-night, 

'T  is  married  next  week  we  'd  be. ' ' 

Lena  Gyles, 

CIRCUMSTANCES  ALTER  CASES 

Tim  Murphy's  gon'  walkin'  wid  Maggie  O'Neill, 

0  chone! 

If  I  was  her  muther,  I  'd  frown  on  sich  foolin', 

0  chone! 

1  'm  sure  it  's  unmutherlike,  darin'  an'  wrong 
To  let  a  gyrul  hear  tell  the  sass  an'  the  song 
Of  every  young  felly  that  happens  along, 

0  chone! 


194  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

An'  Murphy,  the  things  that  's  be 'en  sed  of  his  doin', 

O  chone! 

'T  is  a  cud  that  no  dacent  folks  wants  to  be  chewin', 

O  chone! 

If  he  came  to  my  door  wid  his  can  on  a  twirl, 

Fur  to  thry  to  make  love  to  you,  Biddy,  my  girl, 

An,  would  n  't  I  send  him  away  wid  a  whirl, 

0  chone! 

They  say  the  gossoon  is  indecent  and  dirty, 

0  chone! 

In  spite  of  his  dressin '  so. 

O  chone! 

Let  him  dress  up  ez  foine  ez  a  king  or  a  queen, 

Let  him  put  on  more  wrinkles  than  ever  was  seen, 

You  '11  be  sure  he  's  no  match  for  my  little  colleen, 

0  chone! 

Faith  the  two  is  comin'  back  an'  their  walk  is  all  over, 

0  chone! 

'T  was  a  pretty  short  walk  fur  to  take  wid  a  lover, 

0  chone! 

Why,  I  believe  that  Tim  Murphy's  a  kumin'  this  way, 
Ah,  Biddy  jest  look  at  him  steppin'  so  gay, 

1  'd  niver  belave  what  the  gossipers  say, 
0  chone! 

He  's  turned  in  the  gate  an'  he  's  coming  a-caperin' 

O  chone! 

Go  Biddy,  go  quick  an'  put  on  a  clane  apern, 

O  chone! 

Be  quick  as  ye  kin  fur  he  's  right  at  the  dure ; 

Come  in,  master  Tim,  fur  ye  're  welcome  I  'm  shure. 

We  were  talkin'  o'  ye  jest  a  minute  before. 

0  chone!  Anonymous. 


Material  for  Interpretation  195 


BORROWING  A  PIE 

(Mrs.  Harrigan  crosses  the  road  from  her  own  house  and  enters 
the  kitchen  of  Mrs.  Hubbell.  Into  her  own  dooryard  a  buggy  con- 
taining a  man  and  woman  has  just  been  driven.  Mrs.  Harrigan 
finds  Mrs.  Hubbell  coming  out  of  her  pantry  and  opens  fire  on 
her.) 

Mrs.  Harrigan:  Good-marnin '  Mrs.  Hubbell.  I  was 
wonderin'  if  you  had  a  pie  you  could  lind  me  the  loan  of 
till  we  ate  it.  Sure,  Maggie  Cassidy  and  her  husband 
has  just  this  minute  druv  over  from  Bridgetown,  unbe- 
knownst to  me,  an'  I  see  them  out  of  the  kitchen  windy, 
an'  me  hands  in  the  suds,  an'  not  a  pie  in  the  house,  an' 
all  the  family  so  fond  of  pies,  an'  Mr.  Hubbell  is  so 
dyspeptic-like  that  you  must  arlways  have  plinty  of  pies, 
an'  I  tharght  I  'd  run  over  an'  borry  wan.  Not  a  bit  of 
differ  dbes  itimake  if  it  's  punkin  or  mince  or  apple,  but 
Maggie  was  arlways  deat'  on  pies,  an'  I  want  to  show 
her  that  I  can  bake  as  good  as  anny  wan,  an'  she  goin' 
back  to  Bridgetown  this  afternoon,  I  suppose.  {Mrs.  Hub- 
hell,  who  has  retreated  into  the  pantry,  returns  with  a  pie.) 
Oh,  would  ye  look  at  that!  Cranberry  pie  an'  arl  kivered 
wid  slats  like.  Sure  it  looks  like  a  valentine!  Shall  I 
keep  the  plate,  or  do  ye  want  it  back?  I  never  knows. 
There  's  some  wants  'em  back  an'  some  never  says.  Sure, 
what  's  a  plate  more  or  less  ?  I  say.  But,  to  be  sure,  whin 
I  lind  a  plate  I  want  it  back,  because,  after  arl,  a  plate  is 
a  plate.  Did  you  hair  about  me  bye,  Jimmy?  He  kem 
naire  bein'  baggageman  in  the  railroad  station.  On'y  they 
had  wan  they  'd  have  took  him  if  he  could  rade  an'  write 
better.  Sure  'tis  a  pity  he  didn't  accipt  it,  because  he 
can  t'row  a  trunk  six  feet,  he  's  that  strarng.  He  's 
strarnsr  as  an  ox  an'  gentle  as  a  kitten.    Ye  didn't  see 


196  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

annything  of  our  kitten,  did  ye  1  We  lost  it  last  week,  an' 
me  man  Mike  says  he  come  acrost  it  froze  to  deat'  in  a 
drift.  It  was  that  cnnnin'.  It  would  stand  in  me  lap  an' 
knock  the  spectacles  off  me  face  like  a  monkey.  An'  it 
would  ate  of  the  plate  wid  the  baby  just  like  a  tame 
chicken.  The  baby's  gettin'  fatter  since  the  kitten  's  gone, 
an'  it  's  a  gre't  loss  it  is,  because  he  was  so  cunnin'  an'  so 
weeny.  I  suppose  ye  haird  of  how  nair  the  house  was  to 
bein'  burned  to  the  ground  on  a  windy  day  lasht  wake, 
and  not  a  cint  of  insurance.  Not  a  blessed  cint.  We  was 
able  to  put  it  out  because  I  was  washin'  the  clothes,  an' 
whin  the  baby  lit  the  match,  be  good  luck  he  flung  it  into 
the  tub  an'  it  wint  out.  But  the  wind  was  that  high,  an' 
Mike  in  the  west  lot,  an'  Jimmy  cuttin'  ice,  that  it  was  a 
narrer  escape,  an'  me  so  lame  wid  the  rheumatism.  I  'm 
tellin'  Mike  we  'd  orter  have  thim  safety  matches  that 
can't  burrn  at  all.  Sure,  if  ye  light  thim  they  go  right 
out.  {She  edges  toward  the  door.)  It's  wonderful  what 
a  lot  of  colds  there  is  nowadays,  an'  the  weather  so  chilly 
it  's  hard  to  cure  thim  on  that  account.  The  baby  was 
out  in  the  rain  fer  nair  an  hour  yisterday,  an'  me  thinkin' 
him  asleep  in  his  crib,  an'  to-day  he  has  the  shniffles,  an'  I 
dunno  where  he  caught  thim,  fer  I  'm  careful  to  keep  the 
window  shut  tight  day  an'  night,  an'  blankets  on  him 
whiniver  he  's  asleep.  Is  your  hins  layin'?  I  had  gre't 
luck  wid  mine  this  winter.  I  did  n  't  feed  thim  much,  corn 
bain'  high,  an'  free  of  the  Leggetts'  pullets  come 
under  the  fince  an'  laid  ivery  day  in  me  nest-box.  The 
Leggetts  feed  thim  whate,  but  I  can't  afford  it  wid  eggs 
t'irty-six  cints  a  dozen  an'  mate  so  high.  Sure  I  tell  Mike 
we  '11  have  to  become  vegetarians  unless  we  live  on  per- 
taties  arltogether,  the  way  we  did  in  th'  ould  country. 
It  's  wicked  the  way  the  butcher  chairges  for  mate,  an'  I 


Material  for  Interpretation  197 

haird  him  say  the  wholesale  butchers  was  just  as  wicked. 
So  it  's  a  wicked  lot  they  are,  bad  cess  to  thim !  Sure, 
I  wisht  that  Mike  was  in  the  butcher  business  to  git  the 
prices  they  git,  an'  I  'd  have  him  kill  our  cows,  fer  they  're 
so  ould  it  's  blessed  little  milk  we  git,  an'  the  prices  I  have 
to  pay  for  rump  steak,  he  'd  git  more  for  them  than  they  're 
worth.  But  he  's  no  good  at  makin'  money.  I  tell  him 
if  he  was  a  counterfeiter  like  enough  he  'd  make  such  poor 
money  that  the  law  'd  not  allow  it  if  they  found  out.  {Opens 
the  door  and  stands  in  the  doorway.)  Well,  I  must  be 
hurryin',  as  I  know  you  're  busy,  an'  Maggie  Cassidy  '11 
want  some  wan  to  come  out  an'  hitch  the  horse,  for  her 
man  Larry  is  that  afeerd  to  touch  a  horse  ye  might  think 
he  had  a  dread  of  thim.  An'  his  father  was  kicked  to 
deaf  be  a  mule,  so  it  's  not  that.  He  's  cautious  of  t'ings 
ginerrally,  an'  he  'd  not  be  married  yit  if  Maggie  ha'dn't 
been  so  anxious  to  begin  housekapin'.  An'  they  didn't 
kape  the  house  a  munt'  afther  they  was  married,  fer  the 
mortgage  got  foreclosed  an'  he  had  to  come  an'  live  wid 
her  folks.  He  'd  be  a  handy  man  for  her  father,  who  keeps 
a  livery  stable,  on'y  he  's  fearin'  horses,  so  he  wanted  her 
father  to  go  in  a  business  where  he  could  help,  an'  th'  ould 
man  would  n't,  an'  so  they  quarreled,  an'  th'  ould  man  got 
the  bist  of  it  an'  has  had  to  support  him  iwer  since.  Well, 
thank  you  kindly  fer  the  cranberry  pie.  There  's  Maggie 
knockin'  fer  dare  life  at  me  door,  an'  no  one  to  let  her  in 
but  the  baby,  and  he  can't  raich  the  knob.  Sure,  I  must 
hurry  over  an'  welkim  her  an'  I  hope  she  can  stay  arl 
night,  but  I  know  she  can't,  an'  it  's  lucky,  fer  me  spare 
room  is  full  of  pertaties.  Mike  had  a  great  crop  this 
year,  an'  arlmost  arl  of  thim  bad.  We  can't  ate  more 
than  half  of  'em,  an'  he  can't  sill  thim,  but  it  's  the  biggest 
crop  he  ever  had,  an'  arl  because  he  used  seed  pertaties 


198  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

that  come  from  the  gover'mint  at  Washingt'n.    Sure,  'tis 
a  gre't  help  they  are  to  farmers. 

Well,  good-by,  an'  I  '11  make  ye  an'  apple  pie  in  this 
same  plate  if  you  '11  lind  me  the  loan  of  some  greenin's, 
fer  our  apples  was  burrned  on  the  trees  whin  the  Holts' 
barm  burrned,  an'  we  had  baked  apples  fer  a  week  afther. 
(She  runs  out.)  Hello,  Maggie  Cassidy!  It  's  glad  I  am 
to  see  you,  an'  whin  did  you  come? 

Charles  Battell  Loomis, 


THE  WIFE  IVIY  BRITHER  GOT 

My  granda  was  a  quare  oul '  sowl ; 
He  'd  say :  ' '  Now,  William,  tarry ! 
Leave  girls  alone,  till  I  am  dead, 
It  's  then  that  ye  can  marry." 

I  took  his  biddin',  an'  he  said 

He  'd  leave  me  all  his  money. 

The  people  laughed — near  split  their  sides— ^ 

But  I  seen  naethin'  funny. 

He  died ;  I  then  found  why  folk  laughed. 
These  were  his  only  riches: 
A  wooden  leg,  a  feather  bed. 
An'  a  pair  o'  leather  britches. 

A  wee  cracked  pot — ^wi'oot  a  lug, 
A  jug — wi'oot  a  handle, 
A  'baccy  box — wi'oot  a  lid, 
And  half  a  fardin  candle. 


Material  for  Interpretation  199 

An'  whin  I  axed  Peg  Quinn  tae  wed, 
Says  she :  *  *  Troth,  no !    I  '11  tarry ; 
Ye  've  only  what  your  granda  left — 
You  're  nae  a  man  tae  marry ! ' ' 

An'  man  alive!  'fore  long  she  wed 
Wi'  my  ain  brither  Danny ; 
'*He  's  got  a  brave  wee  farm,"  says  she, 
*  *  He  '11  dae  as  weel  as  any. ' ' 

Dan  comes  tae  hoe  a  crack  odd  nights ; 
I  laugh  till  I  'm  in  stitches ; 
He  grunts  an'  growls:  *'I  wish  tae  God 
I  'd  only  had  your  riches ! ' ' 

Padric  Gregory. 


THE  PRIDE  OF  ERIN 

So  she  says,  lad,  she  'd  only  take  up  wid  a  man 
Who  was  wan  av  the  best,  faith,  the  crame  of  the  clan, 
And  the  pride  av  the  counthry  and  salt  av  the  earth  ? 
So  she  's  leavin '  you,  lad,  not  knowin '  your  worth. 
And  she  holds  she  can 't  mate  wid  a  Kerry  like  you. 
Since  she  's  plannin '  to  take  on  wid  blood  that  is  blue ! 
And  the  Divil  go  wid  her,  but  could  n  't  she  see 
You  'd  the  blood  av  0  'Gorman,  Fitzpatrick,  Magee  ? 
And  the  stock  that  is  first  in  both  fightin'  and  work 
From  the  line  av  0  'Brien  and  Kelly  and  Burke  ? 

—From  O'Failey,  O'Dailey,  O'Reily,  O'Neil 
To  O'Connell,  O'Cooney,  O'Shea  and  O'Sheill 
McCaffray,  McCurchy,  McCarroU,  McCann, 
All  rulers  and  fighters  since  fightin'  began! 


200  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

O'Leary,  O'Farrell,  0 'Carroll,  O'Kane, 
McCormack,  McGurly,  McManus,  McShane, 
And  Gorman,  Fitzpatrick  and  Fightin'  McGirr, 
And  iv  'ry  last  man  av  thim  betther  than  her ! 

So  she  says  you  're  no  betther  than  Irish,  me  lad, 
But  a  counthry-bred,  swine-drivin '  f enian,  bedad ! 
The  whiffet !  the  upshtart !  the  meal-fed  boothoon ! 
And  could  she  be  tellin ',  though  fed  on  a  spoon, 
The  crame  av  the  world  from  ould  Brian  Boru  ? 
Faith,  how  could  she  hope  for  a  Kerry  like  you? — 
With  the  pride  av  your  sivin  ould  kings  in  your  veins, 
Wid  your  mother  0 'Toole,  and  your  sire  av  McShanes? 
Wid  your  ancistry  iv'ry  wan  wearin'  his  crown, 
From  Rhu  and  0  'Brien  to  Big  HoUeran  down ! 

—From  O'Failey,  O'Dailey,  O'Reily,  O'Neil 
To  O'Connell,  O'Cooney,  O'Shea  and  O'SheH! 
McCaffray,  McCurchy,  McCarroll,  McCun, 
McClone  and  McCoy — and  kings  iv'ry  one! 
O'Leary,  O'Farrell,  0 'Carroll,  O'Kane, 
McCormack,  McGurly,  McManus,  McShane, 
And  Tagon  O'Regen  and  Mighty  McGlone, 
The  finest  av  fighters  and  kings  to  the  bone ! 

Arthur  Stringer, 


SECTION  XII 
MISCELLANEOUS 


SECTION  XII 

MISCELLANEOUS 

(See  also  '* Modern  Literature  far  Oral  Interpretation/' 
Johnson,  page  159,  prose.) 

HANS'  HENS 

DID  I  told  you  aboud  my  jungest  son,  yes?  He  is  an 
immertader.  De  udder  day  my  oldes'  boy  who  is 
goin'  to  be  a  Padarefski  vas  knockin'  der  scales  off  der 
biano,  an '  der  secon '  son  who  had  been  fishin '  vas  knockin ' 
der  scales  off  a  fish,  an'  so  liddle  Karl  he  runs  him  into  der 
grocery  store  unt  knocks  der  scales  off  der  counter. 

Ain'  dot  silly?  I  shoost  made  der  feerst  two  boys  do 
dot  scales  bizziness  so  dot  I  could  make  up  dot  vun  aboud 
Karl.  Und  a  funny  t'ing  aboud  id  iss  dot  I  haven't  two 
udder  boys  at  all.    Only  shoost  Karl,  unt  he  iss  my  nephew. 

My  mudder-in-law  she  is  my  aunt.  She  vas  my  aunt 
ven  I  vas  born  but  she  did  n  't  get  to  be  my  mudder-in-law 
until  I  married  Katrina.  Katrina  iss  her  daughder  unt 
my  wife.  I  vish  dot  Katrina 's  mudder  vas  only  my  aunt 
yet — ain'd  id?  Dere  is  someding  aboud  a  mudder-in-law 
dat  ubseds  peeble.  Shoost  to  look  at  Katrina 's  mudder 
you  vould  t'ink  she  vas  no  vairse  dan  an  aunt,  but  dot  iss 
pecause  she  neffer  vould  haf  come  to  liff  mit  you.  Eef  I  am 
cross  mit  Katrina  my  mudder-in-law  always  takes  Kat- 
rina's  sides  unt  makes  me  sorry  she  vas  not  my  aunt  only, 
alretty  yet.  She  says  dot  she  objectut  to  cousins  becomin' 
vifes,  unt  I  say  dot  I  objec'  to  aunts  becomin'  mudder- 

203 


204  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

in-laws,  unt  so  it  goes  from  vairse  to  bad  until  I  vish  dot 
Katrina  had  married  out  of  der  family. 

De  udder  day  I  took  my  vife  unt  her  mudder  to  zee 
Kellar,  unt  he  did  zome  vondairful  tricks,  unt  at  lezt  he 
made  der  vanishing  lady  trick.  After  der  show  vas  over 
I  vent  to  see  Kellar  unt  asked  him  if  he  would  take  some 
money  avay  from  me  to  make  my  mudder-in-law  vanish, 
unt  vot  do  you  suppose  he  said?  Dot  he  couldn't  do  id 
pecause  she  vas  n  't  a  lady. 

Of  course,  I  see  der  choke  pecause  I  haff  lived  in  deez 
coundry  t'irty  year,  unt  I  know  my  mudder-in-law,  but 
ven  I  vent  home  unt  tole  Kellar 's  funny  choke  to  her  she 
does  not  at  all  der  point  zee.  She  is  so  mat  unt  uses  such 
langwitches  dot  I  tole  her  dot  if  she  didn't  look  oud  she 
vould  spoil  der  pleasure  of  her  visit  mit  me,  unt  dot  make 
her  so  mat  dot  she  say  she  vill  not  stay  to  be  insultit,  unt 
she  vent  home.  So  I  write  to  Kellar  how  mush  I  owed  him, 
pecause  eefen  if  my  mudder-in-law  vas  not  a  lady  she  had 
vanished. 

I  vant  to  ask  you  for  der  remetty  for  my  schickens 
layin '  so  funny.  I  haf  a  dozen  of  schickens,  unt  a  neighbor 
tells  me  dot  if  I  don'd  vant  dem  to  be  stoled  I  make  dem 
roost  high.  Unt  I  ask  him  how  I  shall  teach  dem  to  roost 
at  all,  unt  he  say,  "Get  a  rooster,  unt  ven  dey  see  him 
roost  dey  vill  become  roosters,  too."  But  I  guess  dot  iss 
hiss  choke. 

But  I  make  der  perches  ten  feet  high  unt  dot  iss  all 
righd ;  der  hens  go  up  dair  unt  sit  down,  but  in  der  morning 
dey  are  so  high  dey  are  afrait  to  come  down  unt  so  dey 
lay  deir  eggs  up  dere.  Dey  are  splendut  schickens  unt 
lay  big  eggs,  better  as  der  groceryman  has,  but  de  eggs 
fall  so  far  dot  de  yolk  run  out  of  der  shell  der  minid  dey 
hit  der  grount.    Now  I  don 't  know  vot  to  do.    Eight,  nine, 


Material  for  Interpretation  205 

ten  eggs  a  day  is  laid,  but  dey  is  all  broken  ven  dey  hif  der 
grount.  Of  course,  uff  dere  vas  no  gronnt  de  wouldn't 
get  broke,  unt  dot  giff  me  an  idea.  I  dell  Katrina  dot 
der  grount  iss  too  hard  unt  I  ought  to  get  swan's  down, 
unt  she  say  better  I  get  der  schickens  down. 

But  ven  nearly  sixty  eggs  iss  all  smashet  on  der  floor  of 
der  hen-house  I  make  up  a  plan  dot  is  all  righd.  I  buy  me 
tvelif  boys'  caps  for  fifty  cents  abiece  und  I  fastens  dem 
on  tvelff  poles  so  dot  they  come  under  der  hens,  unt  ven 
I  go  oud  again  dere  is  an  eggs  in  each  cap.  Vot  iss  der 
use  mit  prains  unless  a  man  uses  dem.  De  reason  zome 
peeble  don'd  have  success  mit  hens  is  pecause  dey  don'd 
use  chudgment. 

But  experience  has  school  poys.  .  De  nex'  time  I  buy 
me  some  secon'-han'  caps,  pecause  ven  I  pay  me  six  dollars 
out  for  caps  to  get  tvellff  eggs  it  is  too  much.  Unt  anyway 
der  hens  don'd  lay  any  more  pecause  dey  are  sick  from 
livin'  on  a  perch  all  der  vile.  I,  too,  vould  get  sick  from 
livin'  on  a  perch  pecause  I  hate  fish. 

Charles  Battell  Loomis. 


A  RUSTIC  SONG 

Oh,  I  be  vun  of  the  useful  troibe 

O '  rustic  volk,  I  be ; 

And  writin'  gennelmen  dii  descroibe 

The  doin  's  o '  such  as  we : 

I  don 't  knaw  mooch  o '  corliflower  plants, 

I  can't  tell  'oes  from  trowels, 

But  'ear  me  mix  ma  consonants. 

An'  moodle  oop  all  ma  vowels! 


206  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

I  talks  in  a  wunnerf  ul  dialect 

That  vew  can  hunderstand, 

'T  is  Yorkshire-Zummerzet,  I  expect, 

With  a  dash  o '  the  Oirish  brand ; 

Sometimes  a  bloomin'  flower  of  speech 

I  picks  from  Cockney  spots, 

And  when  Releegious  truths  I  teach, 

Obsairve  ma  richt  gude  Scots ! 

In  most  of  the  bukes,  't  was  once  the  <jasc 

I  'ad  n  't  got  much  to  do, 

I  blessed  the  'eroine's  purty  face, 

An'  I  seed  the  'ero  through; 

But  now,  I  'm  juist  a  pairsonage! 

A  power  o'  bukes  there  be 

Which  from  the  start  to  the  very  last  page 

Entoirely  deal  with  me ! 

The  wit  or  the  point  o '  what  I  spakes 

Ye  've  got  to  find  if  ye  can ; 

A  wunnerf  ul  difference  spellin'  makes 

In  the  'ands  of  a  competent  man ! 

I  may  n  't  knaw  mooch  o '  corliflower  plants, 

I  may  n  't  knaw  'oes  from  trowels, 

But  I  does  ma  wark,  if  my  consonants 

Be  properly  mixed  with  ma  vowels! 

Anthony  C.  Deane. 

FOREIGN  VIEWS  OF  THE  STATUE 

On  the  deck  of  a  steamer  that  came  up  the  Bay, 
Some  garrulous  foreigners  gathered  one  day, 
To  vent  their  opinions  on  matters  and  things 
On  this  side  the  Atlantic,  in  language  pedantic. 
'T  was  much  the  same  gathering  that  any  ship  brings. 


Material  for  Interpretation  207 

**Ah,   look!"   said   the   Frenchman,  with   pride   his  lips 

curled ; 
"See  ze  Liberte  Statue  enlighten  ze  world! 
Ze  grandest  colossal  zat  evair  vas  known ! 
Thus  Bartholdi,  he  speak:  *Vive  la  France-Amerique ! ' 
La  Belle  France  make  ze  statue,  and  God  make  ze  stone ! ' ' 

Said  the  Scotchman :  * '  Na  need  o '  yer  sp  'akin '  sae  free ! 
The  thing  is  na  sma,  sir,  that  we  canna  see. 
Do  ye  think  that  wi  'oot  it  the  folk  couldna  tell  ? 
Sin '  't  is  Liberty 's  Statye,  I  ken  na  why  that  ye 
Did  na  keep  it  at  hame  to  enlighten  yoursel'!" 

The  Englishman  gazed  through  his  watch-crystal  eye: 

* '  Ton  'Onor,  by  Jove,  it  is  too  beastly  high ! 

A  monstwosity,  weally,  too  large  to  be  seen! 

In  pwoportion,  I  say,  it  's  too  lawge  for  the  Bay. 

So  much  lawger  than  one  we  've  at  'ome  for  the  Queen!'* 

An  Italian  next  joined  the  colloquial  scrimmage: 
"I  dress-a  my  monkey  just  like-a  de  image, 
I  call-a  'Bartholdi' — Frenchman  got-a  spunky — 
Call-a  me  'Macaroni,'  lose-a  me  plendy  moany! 
He  break-a  my  organ  and  keel-a  my  monkey ! 

*  *  My-a  broder  a  f  eesherman ;  hear-a  what  he  say : 
No  more-a  he  catch-a  de  feesh  in  de  Bay. 
He  drop-a  de  sein — he  no  get-a  de  weesh. 
When  he  make-a  de  grab-a,  only  catch-a  de  crab-a. 
De  big-a  French  image  scare  away  all  de  feesh!" 

*'By  the  home  rule!"  said  Pat;  ''and  is  that  Libertee? 
She  's  the  biggest  owld  woman  that  iver  I  see ! 
Phy  don 't  she  sit  down  ?     'T  is  a  shame  she  's  to  stand. 
But  the  truth  is,  Oi  'm  towld,  that  the  sthone  is  too  cowld. 


208  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Would  ye  moind  the  shillalah  she  howlds  in  her  hand ! ' ' 
Said  the  Cornishman :  ' '  Thaat  's  no  a  shillalah,  ye  scaamp ! 
Looaks  to  I  like  Diogenes  'ere  wi'  is  laamp, 
Searchin '  haard  fur  a  'onest  maan. "    "  Faith  that  is  true, ' ' 
Muttered  Pat,  '  *  phat  ye  say,  fur  he  's  lookin '  moi  way, 
And  by  the  same  favor  don 't  recognize  you ! ' ' 

"Me  no  sabee  you  foleners;  too  muchee  talkee ! 

^ou  no  likee  Idol,  you  heap  takee  walkee. 

Him  allee  same  Chinaman  velly  big  Joshee. 

Him  Unclee  Sam  gal-ee;  catch  um  lain,  no  umblallee! 

Heap  velly  big  shirtee — me  no  likee  washee!" 

'*0h!"  cried  Sambo,  amazed,  **dat  's  de  cullud  man's  Lor'! 
He  's  come  back  to  de  earf ;  somefin'  he  's  lookin'  for. 
Alius  knowed  by  de  halo  surroundin'  he's  brow. 
Jess  you  looken  dat  crown !    Jess  you  looken  dat  gown ! 
Lor'  'a'  mussy,  I  knows  I  's  a  gone  nigga  now!" 

Said  the  Yankee:  '*I  've  heerd  you  discussin'  her  figger; 
And  I  reckon  you  strangers  hain  't  seen  nuthin '  bigger. 
Wall,  I  hain 't  much  on  boastin '  but  I  '11  go  my  pile : 
When  you  furreners  cum  you  '11  find  her  to  hum! 
Dew   I   mean   what   I   say?     Wall   somewhat — I    should 
smile!" 

Fred  Emerson  Brooks. 


MR.  SCHMIDT'S  MISTAKE 

I  GEEPS  me  von  leetle  schtore  town  Proadway,  und  does 
a  pooty  good  peesnis,  bud  I  ton't  got  mooch  gapital  to  vork 
mit,  so  I  finds  id  hard  vork  to  get  me  oil  der  gredits  vot  I 
vould  like.  Last  veek  I  hear  aboud  some  goots  dot  a  barty 
vas  going  to  sell  pooty  sheap,  und  so  I  writes  dot  man  if  he 


Material  for  Interpretation  209 

vould  gief  me  der  refusal  of  dose  goots  for  a  gouple  of 
days.  He  gafe  me  der  refusal — dot  is,  he  salt  I  gouldn't 
haf  dem — ^but  he  salt  he  vould  gall  on  me  und  see  mine 
schtore,  und  den  if  mine  schtanding  in  peesnis  vas  goot, 
berhaps  ve  might  do  somedings  togedder.  Veil,  I  vas 
behint  mine  gounter  jesterday,  ven  a  shentleman  gomes  in 
und  dakes  me  py  der  hand  und  say:  **Mr.  Schmidt,  I 
pelieve."  I  say,  "Yaw,"  und  den  I  dinks  to  mineself,  dis 
vas  der  man  vot  has  dose  goots  to  sell,  und  I  musd  dry  to 
make  some  goot  imbressions  mit  him,  so  ve  gould  do  some 
peesnis.  *'Dis  vas  goot  schtore,"  he  says,  looking  roundt. 
**bud  you  don't  got  pooty  pig  shtock  already."  I  vas 
avraid  to  let  him  know  dot  I  only  hat  'bout  a  tousand 
tollars  vort  of  goots  in  der  blace,  so  I  says:  "You  ton't 
vould  dink  I  hat  more  as  dree  tousand  tollars  in  dis  leedle 
schtore,  ain't  id?"  He  says:  "You  don't  tole  me!  Vos 
dot  bossible!"  I  says:  "Yaw."  I  meant  dot  id  vas  hos- 
sible,  dough  id  vas  n't  so,  vor  I  vas  like  Shorge  Vashing- 
tons  ven  he  cut  town  der  "olt  elm"  on  Poston  Gommons 
mit  his  leedle  hadchet,  und  gould  n  't  dell  some  lies  about  id. 
"Veil,"  says  der  shentleman,  "I  dinks  you  ought  to 
know  petter  as  anypody  else  vot  you  haf  got  in  der 
schtore."  Und  den  he  dakes  a  big  book  vrom  unter  his 
arm  and  say:  "Veil,  I  poots  you  town  vor  dree  tousand 
tollars."  I  ask  him  vot  he  means  py  "poots  me  town," 
und  den  he  says  he  vas  von  off  der  dax-men,  or  assessors 
of  broperty,  und  he  tank  me  so  kintly,  as  nefer  vos,  pe- 
cause  he  say  I  vos  sooch  an  honest  Deutscher,  und  tidn't 
dry  und  sheat  der  gofermants.  I  dells  you  vat  it  vos,  I 
didn't  veel  any  more  petter  as  a  hundord  ber  cent,  ven 
dot  man  valks  oudt  of  mine  schtore,  und  der  nexd  dime  I 
makes  free  mit  sdrangers  I  vinds  first  deir  peesniss  oudt 

Charles  F.  Adams. 


210  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

THE  SPINSTER'S  SWEET-ARTS 
(Lincolnshire  Dialect) 

I.  Milk  for  my  sweet-arts,  Bess !  fur  it  mun  be  the  time 

about  now 
When  Molly  comes  in  fro'  the  far-end  close  wi'  her 

paails  fro'  the  cow. 
Eh!  tha  be  new  to  the  plaace — ^thou'rt  gaapin — 

doesn't  tha  see. 
I  calls  'em  arter  the  fellers  es  once  was  sweet  upo' 

me? 

II.  Naay  to  be  sewer  it  be  past  'er  time.    What  maakes 
'er  sa  laate? 
Goa  to  the  laane  at  the  back,  an '  loook  thruf  Mad- 
dison's  gaate! 

III.  Sweet-arts!   Molly  belike  may   'a'  lighted  tonight 

upo'  one. 
Sweet-arts!  thanks  to  the  Lord  that  I  niver  not 

listen 'd  to  noanl 
So  I  sits  i'  my  oan  armchair  wi'  my  oan  kettle  theere 

o'  the  hob, 
An'  Tommy  the  fust,  an'  Tommy  the  second,  an 

Steevie  an'  Rob. 

IV.  Rob,  coom  oop  'ere  o'  my  knee.    Thou  seest  that  i' 

spite  o'  the  men 
I 'a'  kep'  thruf  thick  an'  thin  my  two   'oondered 

a-year  to  mysen; 
Yis!  thaw  tha  call'd  me  es  pretty  es  ony  lass  i'  the 

Shere, 
An'  thou  be  es  pretty  a  Tabby;  but  Robby,  I  seed 

thruf  ya  theere. 


Material  for  Interpretation  211 

V.  Feyther  'ud  saay  I  wur  ugly  as  sin,  an'  I  beant  not 

vaain, 
But  I  niver  wur  downright  hugly,  thaw  soon  'ud  'a 

thowt  ma  plaain, 
An'  I  wasn't  sa  plaain  i'  pink  ribbons,  ye  said  I 

wur  pretty  i'  pinks, 
,  An'  I  liked  to  'ear  it  I  did,  but  I  beant  sich  a  fool 

as  ye  thinks; 
Ye  was  stroakin  ma  down  wi'  the   'air,  as  I  be 

a-stroakin  o'  you, 
But  whinever  I  loook'd  i'  the  glass  I  wur  sewer  that 

it  couldn't  be  true 
Niver  wur  pretty,   not  I,  but  ye  knaw'd  it  wur 

pleasant  to  'ear, 
Thaw  it  war  n  't  not  me  es  wur  pretty,  but  my  two 

'oonderd  a-year.  .  .  . 

VI.  But,  Robby,  I  thowt  o'  tha  all  the  while  I  wur 

chaangin'  my  gown. 
An '  I  thowt  shall  I  chaange  my  staate  ?  but,  0  Lord, 

upo'  coomin'  down — 
My  bran-new  carpet  es  fresh  es  a  midder  o'  flowers 

i'  Maay— 
Why  'edn't  tha  wiped  thy  shoes?  it  wur  clatted  all 

ower  wi'  claay. 
An'  I  could  'a  cried  ammost,  fur  I  seed  that  it 

couldn't  be. 
An'  Robby,  I  gied  tha  a  raatin'  that  sattled  thy 

coortin'  o'  me. 
An'  Molly  an'  me  was  agreed,  as  we  was  a-cleanin' 

the  floor, 
That  a  man  be  a  durty  thing  an'  a  trouble  an' 

plague  wi'  indoor. 


212  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

But  I  rued  it  arter  a  bit,  fur  I  stuck  to  tha  more 

na  the  rest, 
But  I  couldn't  'a  lived  wi'  a  man,  an'  I  knaws  it 

to  be  all  fur  the  best.  .  .  . 


VII.  To  be  border 'd  about,  an'  waaked,  when  Molly  *d 

put  out  the  light, 
By  a  man  coomin'  in  wi'  a  hiccup  at  ony  hour  o* 

the  night! 
An'  the  taable  staain'd  wi'  'is  aale,  an'  the  mud  o' 

'is  boots  o'  the  stairs, 
An'  the  stink  o'  'is  pipe  i'  the  'ouse,  an'  the  mark 

o'  'is  'ead  o'  the  chairs! 
An '  noan  o '  my  four  sweet-arts  'ud  'a  let  ma  'a  hed 

my  oan  waay. 
So  I  likes  'em  best  wi'  taails  when  they  'evn't  a 

word  to  saay. 

VIII.  An'  I  sits  i'  my  oan  little  parlor  an'  sarved  by  oan 

little  lass, 
Wi'  my  oan  little  garden  outside,  an'  my  oan  bed  o' 

sparrowgrass, 
An'   my   oan    door-poorch   wi'   the   woodbine   an' 

jessmine  a-dressin'  it  greean. 
An'  my  oan  fine  Jackman  i'  purple  a  roabin'  the 

'ouse  like  a  Queean. 

IX.  An'  the  little  gells  bobs  to  my  hoffens  es  I  be  abroad 
i'  the  laanes. 
When  I  goas  to  coomfut  the  poor  es  be  down  wi' 
their  haaches  an'  their  paains. 


Material  for  Interpretation  218 

An'  a  haaf-pot  o'  jam,  or  a  mossel  o'  meat  when  it 

beant  too  dear, 
They  maakes  me  a  graater  Laady  nor   'eer  i'  the 

mansion  theer, 
Hes  'es  hallus  to  hax  of  a  man  how  much  to  spare 

or  to  spend, 
An'  a  spinster  I  be  an'  I  will  be,  if  soa  please  God, 

to  the  hend.  .  .  . 

Alfred  Tennysion. 
Arranged  by  Gertrude  Johnson. 


JOHN  CHINAMAN'S  PROTEST 

Melican  man  no  wantee  John  Chinaman  ally  mo' 

He  no  slay,  "John,  you  velly  good  washee." 
Not  muehee;  he  slay,  ''John,  I  wipee  flo' 
Withee  you,  if  mo'  comee  this  countlee." 
What  fo' 
Melican  man 
No  wantee 
John  Chinaman 
Ally  mo'? 

John  Chinaman  he  no  gettee  dlunk  heap 

He  mind  his  own  washee,  washee, 
AUe  dayee  long,  and  takee  sleep, 

Boil  watel  f o ' — wat  you  call  him  ? — ^hashee  I 
What  fo' 
Melican  man 
No  wantee 
John  Chinaman 
Ally  mo'? 


214  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

John  Chinaman  he  no  punchee  head  much : 

He  no,  like  Melican  man,  say  "Helle" 
He  usee  sloap,  watel,  sclubbin '-blush, 
Ebly  dayee  to  help  fillee  bellee. 
What  fo' 
Melican  man 
No  wantee 
John  Chinaman 
Ally  mo'? 

John  Chinaman  he  vellee  pool  man; 

He  no  have  timee  to  fool  away ; 
He  workee  allee  dayee  fast  he  can : 
He  no  workee,  he  no  gettee  pay. 
What  fo' 
Melican  man 
No  wantee 
John  Chinaman 
Ally  mo'? 

John  Chinaman  no  loafee  lound  the  sleets; 

He  workee  hald  fo'  makee  livin': 
He  washee  coUals,  shirtee,  cuffee,  sheets; 
He  do  no  beggin'  or  no  t'iefin. 
What  fo' 
Melican  man 
No  wantee 
John  Chinaman 
Ally  mo'? 

John  Chinaman  he  havee  no  votee : 
Is  that  leason  why  he  no  wantee  here? 

He  no  go  lound  'lection  day,  and  shoutee, 
Fightee  evelybody,  smokee  cigal,  or  dlink  beer. 


Material  for  Interpretation  215 

What  fo' 

Melican  man 

No  wantee 

John  Chinaman 

Ally  mo'? 

Anonym(ms. 

A  DOG  STORY 

Dere  vhas  a  leedle  vomans  once 

Who  keept  a  leedle  shtore, 
Und  had  a  leedle  puppy  dog 

Dot  shtoodt  pefore  der  door. 
Und  evfery  dime  der  peoples  coom 
He  opened  vide  him's  jaw. 
Schnip!   Schnap!  shoost  so, 
Und  bite  dem. 

Vun  day  anoder  puppy  dog 

Cooms  runnin '  down  der  shtreet, 
Oudt  of  Herr  Schneider 's  sausage-shop, 

Vhere  he  had  shtoled  some  meat ; 
Und  after  him  der  Schneider  man — 
Der  vhind  vhas  not  more  fleet. 
Whir-r-r!    Whist!  shoost  so, 
Like  vinkin! 

Der  leedle  voman  's  puppy  dog 

Vhas  lookin'  at  der  fun, 
He  barkit  at  der  Schneider  man, 

Und  right  pefore  him  run ; 
Den  fell  him  down,  dot  Schneider  man, 
Like  shooted  mit  a  gun. 
Bang!    Crash!  shoost  so, 
Und  voorser. 


216  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Der  puppy  dog  dot  shtoled  der  meat, 

Roon'd  on  und  got  avhay ; 
Der  leedle  voman's  puppy  dog 
Der  Schneider  man  did  slay, 
Und  make  him  indo  sausages — 
Dot  's  vot  der  peoples  say. 
Chip !    Chop !  shoost  so, 
Und  sell  him. 

DER  MORAL 

Der  moral  is,  don't  interfere 
Vhen  droubles  is  aroundt ; 
Der  man  dot  's  in  der  fightin'  crowd 

Vhill  get  hurt  I  '11  be  pound. 
Mind  your  own  peesness,  dot  is  pest. 
In  life  she  vhill  be  found 
Yaw!  yaw!  shoost  so, 
I  pet  you. 

John  Thomas  Brovm. 


SECTION  XIII 
ONE  ACT  PLAYS  IN  DIALECT 


SECTION  XIII 
ONE  ACT  PLAYS 

A  EAMLET  0'  PUCE 

(Characters) 

(Mrs.) Katie  Divin,  a/n  old  countrywoman. 
(Mrs.) Matty  M'Granahan,  a  younger  woman,  farmer *s 
wife. 

(Scene  :  a  roadside  in  Donegal.) 

(Katie  Divtn,  bareheaded,  is  seated  alone  on  a  stone  ditch, 
knitting.) 

Katie  (soliloquising).  Feth  now  it's  quare  an'  gran' 
at  the  rare  o'  your  days  to  be  sittin'  in  the  sun  forninst 
your  own  door,  listenin'  to  your  own  ould  goose  cacklin', 
an '  your  own  ould  pig  gruntin ',  and  to  feel  the  sun  shinin ' 
on  you,  as  if  it  was  all  your  own  forbye,  an'  to  be  watchin' 
the  corn  gettin'  yallower  and  yallower,  an'  to  know  for 
sartin  that  your  ould  man  's  aff  to  the  Fair  o'  Carn,  an' 
cannae  be  back  till  nightfall !  I  declare  it  thonder  's  naw 
Matty  M'Granahan  comin'  down  the  mountainy  road.  I 
would  know  the  proud  step  of  her  a  mile  aff.  I  '11  warnt 
she  's  been  in  to  Johnny  Gallagher  's  to  buy  a  dress  for 
Mary  Pat's  weddin'.  (Short  pause,  then  suddenly.) 
wouldn't  it  be  the  tarrible  misfortune  if  she  's  tuk  the 
self  same  ramlet  o'  puce  Annie  Cassie  's  been  hankerin' 
after  this  while  past  (stops  knitting).     An'  it  the  wan 

219 


220  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

bit  o'  dacent  stuff  in  Johnny's  shop!  An'  Annie  Cassie 
jist  waitin'  till  get  the  hapence  out  o'  Mickey  till  buy  it! 
Annie  Cassie  '11  be  fair  wild  if  Matty 's  taken  the  fore-road 
of  her.  There  was  niver  a  good  agreement  betwixt  them 
two  since  they  were  wee  cutties/  But  it  's  myself  wouldn't 
like  to  see  Annie  Cassie  put  throughother.^  She  's  my  own 
sister  's  child  that  I  reared  from  she  was  a  wean,  an'  Matty 
M  'Granahan  's  no  way  sih  ^  till  us,  an '  has  got  quare  an ' 
concaity  since  Jamie  was  made  a  Poor  Law  Guardian. 
Well  here  comes  herself.  I  '11  jist  keep  as  quite  as  a 
settin '  hen.  Matty  's  as  close  as  a  wilk  *  if  ye  ax  her 
questions,  but  she  '11  give  ye  the  quare  dale  o'  news  if  ye 
niver  let  on  yourself. 

{Enter  Matty  M 'Granahan  wearing  honnet  trimmed 
with  somewhat  gaudy  flowers,  black  cape,  and  carry- 
ing market  basket  or  string  bag.) 

Matty.  Good  morra  till  ye,  Katie.  Is  it  jist  takin' 
stock  o'  the  fine  evenin'  ye  are?  My!  but  it  's  warrum! 
{Deposits  basket  on  wall  and  sits  down  for  a  gossip.) 
Dear  help  them  as  has  to  live  in  the  town  these  days! 

Katie.  Ay,  the  crathurs!  dear  help  them!  I  had  a 
letter  from  my  nevvy-by-marriage  that  's  in  London  this 
ten  year  an'  more,  an'  he  says  it 's  the  warrumest  summer 
he  's  ivver  knowed, 

Matty.  London's  the  quare  big  place.  I  had  a  cousin 
wanst  was  hired  there.  What  part  might  your  newy  be 
livin'  in? 

Katie.  I  cannae  rightly  mind  the  address,  but  I  know 
it  's  somewhere  aff  the  main  street. 

Matty   {with  a  scornful  laugh).     Main  street!     Katie 

*Girl  or  lass. 
*Put  in  confusion. 
*  Related. 
•Whelk. 


Material  for  Interpretation  221 

Divin,  do  ye  naw  know  there  's  as  many  as  six  or  seven 
main  streets  in  London  ?  Sure  it  's  all  main  streets  there ! 
A  body  would  think  you  were  talkin'  about  the  likes  o' 
Dunkineely;  a  wheen/  houses  stragglin'  along  the  road! 

Katie  {bridling).  How-an-iver  it  isnae  iverywan  can 
say  they  've  a  newy -by-marriage  in  London!  But  ye  've 
been  in  till  the  town  I  '11  warn't — ^by  the  boots  on  ye. 
Woman,  dear,  did  ye  travel  over  the  mountains  in  them 
things?  {pointing  to  Matty's  toots) .  What  for  did  ye  naw 
take  them  aff  ye  at  Lookin'  Glass  Brae? 

Matty  {disdainfully).  Sure  it  's  only  them  wans  from 
the  back  o'  the  mountain  takes  aff  their  booths  at  Lookin' 
Glass  Brae.    I  would  n't  be  seen  doin'  it,  so  I  would  n't. 

Katie.  Feth  ye  might  be  seen  doin'  worse:  When  I 
was  your  age  divil  a  fut  would  I  travel  in  the  boots.  But 
it  's  changed  days  with  us  all  in  Ballycarragh,  with  wur 
slate  roofs  till  wur  byres,  an '  wur  bonnets  till  wur  heads ! 
Sure  the  cows  giv'  jist  as  good  milk  under  the  stra',  an' 
it  's  my  belief  the  more  ye  've  on  your  head,  the  less  ye  've 
in  it. 

Matty  {looking  a  little  taken  aback).  Well,  the 
fashion  's  the  fashion.  An'  it 's  your  own  sister  's  daugh- 
ter Annie  Cassie  M'Phelimy  's  jist  as  set  on  the  fashion 
as  any  wan,  so  it  is,  for  all  she  's  married  on  Long  Mickey 
M'Phelimy,  an'  has  a  cartload  o'  childher. 

Katie.  Poor  Annie  Cassie  the  crathur!  it  's  naw  much 
pleasure  in  life  she  has;  an'  if  she  does  get  an  odd  dress 
now  an'  again,  sure  any  wan  that  would  be  marriet  on 
Long  Mickey  would  need  a  bit  o'  divarsion. 

Matty.  Now  and  again!  Katie  Divin,  I  'm  wonderin* 
at  ye,  so  I  am.  Does  Annie  Cassie  M'Phelimy  iver  plant 
feet  in  the  town  that  she  's  naw  sittin'  in  Johnny  Gal- 
lagher's shop  the  len'th  of  a  day?  Sure  she  knows  far 
*  Several. 


222  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

better  nor  Johnny  himself  ivery  bit  o'  stuff  on  them 
shelves  o'  his. 

Katie  {significantly).  Maybe  there  might  be  wans 
f orbye  Annie  Cassie  would  n  't  be  above  gleekin'  ^  round 
the  jamb  o'  Johnny  Gallagher's  door,  Matty  Granahan. 

Matty  (angrily).  Only  out  of  needcessity,  ir  it  's 
meself  ye  might  be  referrin'  till,  Mrs.  Divin.  But  it  's  time 
I  was  steppin'  {rising  and  taking  up  'basket  with  an  air  of 
dudgeon).  There  's  some  folks'  tongues  is  longer  nor  their 
tempers,  so  there  is  {makes  to  go  off). 

Katie  {in  casual  tone).  This  is  the  gran'  news  about 
Mary  Pat's  weddin'. 

Matty  {pausing,  hut  not  looking  round) .    Ay,  it  is  that. 

KIatie.  It  's  ould  Paddy  Doherty  '11  be  quare  an'  proud 
gettin'  his  daughter  married  on  ''rich  Thomas." 

Matty  {turning  slightly  and  evidently  anxious  to  resume 
gosisip).    Ay  will  he. 

Katie.  An'  they  tell  me  it  's  goin'  to  be  the  quare 
gran'  weddin \ 

Matty.  Ay  now?  {edging  hack  towards  Katie).  Well, 
Paddy  Doherty  has  a  brave  roughness  ^  on  him. 

Katie.  Ay,  there  was  niver  no  stint  wi'  paddy.  They 
tell  me  Mary  Pat  's  gettin'  the  quare  dandy  dress. 

Matty  {eagerly).  Did  ye  hear  the  kin'  o'  the  dress? 
I  11  warnt  it  '11  be  wan  o'  the  new-fashioned  kind  that 
trips  ye  when  ye  travel  {approaching  still  nearer). 

Katie.  I  '11  warnt.  {After  a  pause,  glancing  signifi- 
cantly at  IMatty.)  There  '11  be  more  nor  Mary  Pat  gettin' 
new  duds  for  the  weddin'.  Johnny  Gallagher  '11  be  settin' 
out  all  his  fancy  stuffs,  so  he  will. 

Matty.  Feen  a  bit  o '  decent  cloth  's  in  the  shop  f orbye 
the  bit  of  a  ramlet  I  brought  wi'  me. 

^  Peeping — (furtive. 

'Plenty  of  this  world's  goods. 


Material  for  Interpretation  228 

Katie  (looking  up  sharply).  A  ramlet?  then  ye  've 
been  in  wi '  Johnny  ? 

Matty  {depositing  hasket  on  ground  and  settling  d!own 
once  more  for  a  thorough  gossip).  To  tell  ye  the  truth, 
I  was  jist  on  my  kailye  makin'  straight  for  'Liza  Ann 
M 'Fadden 's  to  ax  after  her  leg  that  was  broke  when 
Johnny  outs  to  the  door  after  me.  **Ye  '11  be  for  the 
weddin'."  says  he.  *'I  'm  axed,"  says  I.  ''An Ms  it 
passin '  my  dacent  shop  ye  are  ? ' '  says  he.  ' '  Sure  ye  cannae 
go  till  a  weddin '  in  them  ould  duds.  It  's  disgracin '  your- 
self an'  Jamie  M'Granahan  ye  '11  be,"  says  he,  "and  him 
newly  made  a  Poor  Law  Guardian.  Hould  on  now  till  I 
show  ye  the  purtiest  bit  o'  cloth  in  the  country,  a  ramlet 
o'  puce,  jist  the  right  len'th  for  a  wumman  o'  your 
dimansions.  Sure  I  've  been  thinkin'  o'  nothin'  an  nobody 
but  yourself  since  I  cut  it." 

Katie  {laying  down  knitting  and  glancing  at  Matty 
sharply).    Puce  did  ye  say?  an'  a  ramlet? 

Matty.  Ay,  puce.  Well,  thinks  I  to  myself,  I  '11  get 
quet  o'  ye  aisier,  my  boy,  if  I  jist  go  in  an'  pass  myself.^ 
I  'm  under  no  needcessity  to  take  your  stuff  if  it  's  naw  to 
my  plazement.  So  in  I  steps,  an'  wi'  that  he  leps  over  the 
counter — that  ye  could  nae  see  his  heels  for  the  dust  he 
was  kickin'  up — an'  out  he  brings  a  real  genteel  piece  o' 
puce,  jist  the  thing  for  a  weddin'.  ''An'  what  would  ye 
be  axin'  for  the  ramlet?"  says  I.  "Twelve  shillin',  it  's 
double  width,"  says  he.  "Seein'  as  I  'm  not  wantin'  it 
at  all,"  says  I,  "an'  only  takin'  it  till  oblige  ye,  I  '11  go  the 
len'th  o'  ten."  "We  '11  split  the  differ,"  says  he;  an' 
before  I  knowed  where  I  was,  he  rowls  it  up,  an'  it  's  in 
my  han '.    I  tell  ye,  I  niver  was  as  taken  aback  in  my  life. 

Katie  {musingly).     Puce,  an'  a  ramlet! 

Matty   {rummaging  in  basket).     It  's  yourself  should 

*Get  it  over. 


224  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

know  a  decent  bit  o'  cloth,  Katie  Divin.  An'  here  it  is 
(holding  up  remnant  of  purple  cloth  for  Katie's  inspec- 
tion) . 

Katie  {peering  at  it,  and  then  gazing  in  sorrowful, 
amazement  at  Matty).  An'  that  's  what  ye  bought  for  a 
weddin'?  Martha  M'Granahan,  I  'm  surprised  at  ye. 
Woman,  dear,  I  thought  ye  had  more  wit. 

Matty  (taken  aback).  What  's  wrong  wi'  't?  a  nice 
Oliver  bit  o '  cloth  as  iver  ye  seen ! 

Katie  (mournfully).  Matty  M'Granahan'  will  ye  tell 
me  whose  corp  ye  're  goin '  till  wake  ? 

Matty.  Wake?  It  's  naw  till  a  wake  I  'm  goin'.  Sure 
I  towld  ye  it  was  till  Mary  Pat's  weddin'. 

Katie.  Sure  ivery  wan  knows  puce  is  no  colour  for  a 
weddin'.  It  's  a  kin'  o'  mournin',  so  it  is.  When  my 
brother's  wife's  half-sister  died,  Sarah  Jane  went  intil 
puce. 

Matty.  My  oh!  I  niver  heerd  tell  o'  the  like.  Half- 
mournin'  is  it? 

Katie.  An'  what  's  more — it  would  be  the  onluckiest 
thing  at  all  till  go  to  a  weddin'  in  half -mournin '. 

Matty  (obvioudy  depressed) .  Well,  lucky  or  no,  I  'm 
feared  I  '11  have  to  stick  till  't.  (Suddenly  brightening.) 
I  '11  tell  ye  what  I  '11  do.  I  '11  rowl  it  up  an'  put  it  past 
in  the  spare-room  chest  o '  drawers,  an '  it  '11  come  in  handy 
in  the  summer  for  a  Sunday  shoot  for  Jamie. 

Katie.  Matty  M'Granahan,  ye  're  talkin'  quare  an' 
ignorant !  An '  Jamie  now  a  Poor  Law  Guardian !  What 
way  would  he  go  to  the  Boord  wear  in'  a  shoot  o'  puce? 
Sure  they  would  take  their  end,^  laughin '  at  him ! 

Matty.  I  wisht  in  my  heart  I  'd  niver  laid  eyes  on  *t. 
You  've  put  me  quare  an'  out  o'  concait  wi'  it. 

Katie  (resignedly) .    Well,  well,  if  it  be  to  be,  it  be  to 
>Die. 


Material  for  Interpretation  225 

be.  But  I  'm  feared  there  '11  some  ill-luck  happen  to  Mary 
Pat.  Like  enough  she  '11  die  within  the  year,  or  ''rich 
Thomas"  '11  lose  all  his  money,  an'  they  '11  both  end  their 
days  in  the  workhouse.    But  don't  say  I  didn't  warn  ye. 

Matty  (rising).  Och  them  's  ould-fashioned  notions  o' 
yours,  Katie,  about  ill-luck.  Ill-luck  comes  to  them  that 
does  ill,  an'  good-luck  comes  to  them  that  does  well.  But 
I  must  be  gettin'  on. 

Katie  (knitting  industriously).  I  always  heerd  tell 
that  puce  makes  a  body  look  quare  an'  yallow  in  the  skin. 
They  say  them  that  wears  it  looks  twicet  their  age. 

Matty  (halting  on  her  step).  I  niver  heerd  that  afore. 
(Moves  on  a  step  or  two,  then  stops  again.)  I  'd  be  lazy  ^ 
to  look  yallow,  for  I  had  aye  a  brave  clear  colour  o'  my 
own.  Many  's  the  time  Jamie  used  to  say  I  could  sport 
the  rid  an'  white  wi'  the  purtiest  girl  in  the  country. 

Katie  (drily).  I  '11  wamt  that  was  when  he  was 
coortin'.    The  men  's  quare  an'  ould-fashioned  them  times. 

Matty.  Still  an'  for  all  I  would  nae  like  Jamie  to  think 
I  was  lookin'  yallow,  naw  for  the  value  of  all  the  puce 
dresses  in  Johnny  Gallagher's  shop.  I  declare  to  ye,  Katie 
Divin,  but  ye  've  put  me  clane  out  o '  concait  wi '  the  thing. 
I  '11  jist  pack  it  back  to  Johnny,  so  I  will,  an'  I  '11  get 
eleven  shillin'  worth  o'  stuff  for  curtains  for  the  room. 
Now  that  Jamie  's  in  a  manner  o'  speakin'  a  public  man 
we  be  to  have  ^  things  a  bit  tastier  like.  The  neighbours 
expecks  it  aff  us. 

Katie.  To  be  sure  they  do.  Them  that  's  in  the  sarvice 
o'  their  country  can  nae  affoord  till  live  like  or'nar  folk. 

Matty.  I  'm  goin'  doen  to  Derry  wi'  Jamie  on  Wednes- 
day, to  hire  a  cutty  at  the  rabble;  ^  an'  I  '11  jist  have  a  look 

^Slow. 

^We  are  obliged. 

*  Half-yearly  fair. 


226  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

round  for  a  nice  respectable  bit  o'  dark  blue  cashmire. 
An'  I  'm  thinkin*  I  11  lave  the  bit  o'  puce  wi'  you,  Katie 
(taking  parcel  from  basket).  Willie  John's  Davy  's  goin' 
intil  the  town  the  morra,  an'  I  '11  tell  him  to  call  in  for  't 
Naw,  naw,  I  would  n  't  for  the  world  Jamie  would  think  I 
was  gettin'  ould  an'  yallow.  Jamie  's  been  the  quare  good 
man  till  me.    Here  it  is;  ye  '11  keep  it  safe,  Katie. 

Katie.     Surely  I  will^ — right  enough. 

Matty.  I  've  clean  taken  the  scunner  at  it,  an'  that 's 
the  truth.    Well,  good-bye  till  ye  Katie.     (Exit.) 

Katie  (soliloquising  while  she  smooths  down  the  tit  of 
cloth).  Well,  well,  the  crathur'.  But  it  was  aisy  decaivin' 
her!  Maybe  I  done  well,  an'  maybe  I  done  ill,  but  anyway 
I  done  Annie  Cassie  a  good  turn.  She  'd  ha'  been  fair 
leppin'  if  Matty  M'Granahan  had  taken  the  fore-road  of 
her.  An'  sure  it  '11  be  doin'  Matty  herself  a  good  turn 
till  take  the  bit  o'  puce  off  her  hands,  an'  her  scunnered 
at  it!  An'  it  's  doin'  Johnny  Gallagher  a  good  turn,  for 
he  '11  get  rid  o'  the  puce  an'  the  curtains  forbye.  Sure 
it  's  doin'  good  turns  all  round  I  am!  Yallow!  och,  the 
crathur!  the  crathur!  (rocks  to  and  fro,  laughing).  My! 
but  the  weemen  has  the  quare  dale  o'  vanity!  An'  it  all 
for  the  sake  o'  the  men.  An'  sure  the  men  's  that  blinded 
after  they  're  marriet  the  divil  a  bit  they  know  what  ye  're 
like!  If  Matty  M'Granahan  had  a  haporth  o'  wit,  she  'd 
know  right  well  that  Jamie  '11  naw  see  a  bit  o'  differ  on 
her  if  the  both  o'  them  lives  to  be  a  hundher.  Well,  well, 
I  must  go  in  an'  square  myself  up,^  for  that  ould  man  o' 
mine  when  he  comes  back  from  the  Fair.  (Begins  to 
titivate  a  little.)  Yallow!  och  the  crathur!  but  she  was 
aisy  decaived!     (Hobbles  off,  laughing,  with  parcel.) 

A.  M'Clure  Warnock. 

*  Primp. 


Material  for  Interpretation  227 


THE  RIDER  OF  DREAMS  ^ 

Scene:  (Night  in  a  room  used  for  kitchen,  dimng-room 
and  laundty  hy  a  colored  family.  A  lamp  is  set  upon 
a  central  table  laid  with  a  spotless  table  cloth.  Baskets 
of  clothes  stand  on  several  chairs.  At  the  hack  is  a 
cook-stove  and  to  the  left  of  this  a  door.  There  are  also 
doorways  at  the  right  and  left  of  the  room.  Lucy 
Sparrow,  a  worn,  sweet-faced  woman  of  forty,  is 
sprinkling  clothes  at  an  ironing-hoard  at  left  with  her 
hack  turned  to  the  table  beside  which,  on  a  high  stool, 
is  perched  a  small  hoy,  Booker  Sparrow.  Both  the  hoy 
and  the  woman  as  well  as  the  room  show  a  painstaking 
neatness  despite  the  disorder  necessary  in  the  process 
of  a  professional  ^^wash.'^) 

Lucy.    Who  make  you? 

Booker.     God.    Ain't  the  mush  done  now? 

Lucy.  It  's  done  but  I  ain't  done  wif  you.  You  got  to 
learn  good  befo'  you  can  eat  good.    Who  redeem  you? 

Booker.  Christ.  I  '11  stop  being  hungry  for  it  if  I 
don't  get  it  now. 

Lucy.  Bettah  lose  youah  wishes  an'  youah  ahms  an' 
laigs  an'  everything  youah  body  's  fix  wif  an'  keep  youah 
immortal  soul.     Who  sanctify  you? 

Booker.  The  Holy  Ghost.  I  don't  want  nothing  but 
mush. 

Lucy.  Well,  you  ain'  goin'  to  git  hit  twell  you  luhns 
de  questions.    What  de  chief  en'  of  man? 

*  Reprinted  by  permission  of  the  author  and  by  special  arrange- 
ment with  The  Macmillan  Company,  Publishers. 

For  permission  to  perform  this  play  application  must  be  made 
to  the  author  in  care  of  the  publisher. 


228  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Booker.  Chief  end  of  man  is  to  glorify  God  and  enjoy 
himself  for  ever. 

Lucy  ( coming  swiftly  forward  and  confronting  him  with 
a  threatening  look).  Enjoy  hisself!  I  ain'  neveh  teach 
you  dat.  You  know  betteh  'n  dat.  Man  got  no  right  to 
enjoy  hisself.  He  got  to  enjoy  Gawd.  You  knows  dat  as 
well  as  you  knows  eatin'.  An'  you  got  to  say  it  an'  what  's 
mo'  you  got  to  live  it.    Now  what  de  chief  en'  of  man? 

Booker.     Enjoy  God  forever. 

Lucy.  Dat  's  mo'  like  it.  {She  turns  her  hack  and 
going  to  the  ironing -hoard  resumes  her  labors,  still  talk- 
ing.) I  'm  raisin'  you  fo'  de  Kingdom  an'  you 'ah  goin* 
in  de  Kingdom  ef  pushin'  '11  Ian'  you  dere.  Because 
dis  time  anutheh  yeah  you  may  be  in  some  lonesome  grave- 
yard.    (Singing.) 

In  some  lonesome  graveyard 
Oh,  Lawd,  no  time  to  pray. 

(As  she  sings  Booker  stealthily  slips  off  his  stool  and 
going  around  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  takes  a  spoon 
with  which  he  approaches  a  dish  set  upon  a  warming-shelf 
fixed  to  the  stove.  He  furtively  dips  his  spoon  in  the  dish 
a/nd  begins  to  eat.    Lucy  continuing  her  singing.) 

Play  on  youah  harp,  little  David, 
Little  Davy,  how  ole  are  you  ? 
**I  'm  only  twelve  yeahs  ole." 

(She  turns  and  discovers  Booker.)  What !  You  stealin' ! 
I  '11  show  you!  (She  gives  him  a  cuff  and  a  shake,  de- 
positing him  again  upon  his  stool.)  You  shorely  is  on  de 
way  to  de  fieh  but  I  'm  goin '  pluck  you  out  ef  it  skins  you 
alive.     Steal,  will  you?    What  de  sevenf  commandment? 

Booker  (sniveling) .     Thou  shalt  not  steal. 

Lucy.    See  dat.    You  knows  it  but  you  des  won't  live 


Material  for  Interpretation  229 

hit.  Well,  I  'm  goin'  live  it  into  you.  I  'm  goin*  slap  sin 
out  of  you.  {She  gives  him  another  shake.)  An' de  grace 
into  you.  Now  you  say  dat  commandment  sevumty  times 
sevun.    Begin.     Say  it. 

Booker.  Thou  shalt  not  steal.  Thou  shalt  not  steal— 
{The  door  at  hack  opens  and  Madison  Sparrow  stands  in 
the  doorway  looking  on  the  scene  within  the  room.  He  is 
a  tall,  loose-jointed,  lazy-looking  man.  In  one  hand  he 
carries  a  long  green  hag.) 

Madison  {after  a  mrvey  of  the  situation).  What  de 
boy  do  ? 

Lucy.    He  steal,  dat  what  he  do. 

Madison.     Um.    What  he  steal? 

Lucy.     Mush.     I  tole  him  not  to  tech  it. 

Madison.    Well,  he  was  hongry,  were  n  't  he  ? 

Lucy.  Dat  ain'  de  p'int.  'T  were  n't  his  till  I  give 
it  to  him. 

Madison  {places  the  hag  carefully  hy  the  doorway, 
throws  his  hat  upon  it,  then  seats  himself  at  the  tahle). 
Bring  on  dat  mush.  I  'm  tia'hd  of  dese  fool  doin's.  Dey 
ain't  no  git  ahead  wif  um.  Ef  de  boy  wants  mush  let  him 
git  mush. 

Lucy  {placing  food  hefore  him  on  the  tahle).  Yes,  but 
not  rob  it. 

Madison.    Who  talkin'  'bout  robbin'? 

Lucy.  Madison,  dat  's  de  wrong  kin'  of  trash  fo'  dis 
baby  to  heah.  Go  lay  down,  honey.  Tek  de  bowl  wif  you. 
(Booker  whines  hut  takes  a  dish  and  goes  to  doorway  at 
left.) 

Madison.  No,  hit  's  de  right  kin'  of  preachin'.  I  *m 
tia'hd  of  all  dat  ol'  fashion  way  of  doin'.  Ef  I  wuz  to 
wuk  my  ahms  off  dat  ol'  fashion  way  I  couldn't  git  no 
furder. 

Lucy.    What  you  bin  wukin'  at  dis  yeah,  Madison? 


230  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Madison.  Dat  's  it.  You  know  dat  I  'm  bin  lookin'  fo' 
it  and  could  n  't  find  hit. 

Lucy.    What  you  wuk  at  last  yeah? 

Madison.    You  knows  I  wuk  in  the  strippin'  factory. 

Lucy.    Jes'  two  weeks. 

Madison.  You  knows  I  wuk  till  I  strain  my  back.  But 
neveh  min'  about  all  dat.  I  done  tuhn  oveh  a  new  leaf. 
T  goin'  to  be  a  business  man.  I  goin'  to  let  de  otheh  man 
wuk. 

Lucy.     S'posin'  everybody  was  to  do  dat  way. 

Madison.  Let  'em  do  hit.  I  don'  ask  nothin'  of  nobody. 
I  goin'  to  have  every  toof  in  my  haid  covehed  wif  gol'. 
I  '11  get  youah'n  an  Book's  fix  dat  way  too.  I  goin'  to 
have  plenty  society  grub  in  me  all  de  time.  I  ain'  goin* 
to  let  my  fam'ly  suffeh.  I  got  too  sweet  a  disposishun  fo' 
dat.    I  '11  git  'em  whateveh  I  want. 

Booker  {lingering  in  doorway).  When  you  get  rich 
will  you  get  me  the  guitar,  Daddy  ? 

(Lucy  waves  Booker  through  doorwoAj.    Be  vanishes.) 

Madison.  I  '11  git  it  an'  I  got  it.  Watch  me  now.  {He 
goes  over  to  the  bag  by  the  door  and  reaching  in  it  produces 
a  handsome  guitar.)  Dat  's  de  beginnin'  er  good  times, 
boy. 

Lucy  {with  sickening  apprehension),  Madison,  where 
you  git  dat  insterment. 

Madison.  Dat 's  de  Lawd's  insterment,  Lucy.  He  done 
pervide  it. 

Lucy.     Oh,  Madison,  dat  ain'  youah'n. 

Madison.     'T  is  now,  honey. 

Lucy.  No,  youah  las'  dime  you  spent  Sunday  an'  I 
ain'  give  you  no  money  since.  You  got  it  wif  out  payin' 
for  it.    You  charged  it. 

Malison.    Yassah,  I  got  it  wif  out  paying  for  it  an'  I 


Material  for  Interpretation  231 

going  to  keep  on  a-gettin'  it  wifout  payin'  for  hit  as  long 
as  de  gittin  's  good. 

Lucy.     How  you  like  to  be  treat  dat  way? 

Madison.    What  way? 

Lucy.  If  you  was  keepin'  a  store,  to  have  folks  charge 
things  when  dey  did  n'  know  how  dey  could  pay. 

Madison.  I  'm  willin'  fo'  to  be  treat  dat  way  ef  dey 
can  do  hit.  Let  'em  come  an'  git  my  things  if  dey  find?, 
any. 

Lucy  {hreaking  down).  Oh,  I  cain'  stan'  hit.  Youah 
sinkin'  fas'  down  to  de  fiery  lake  an'  you  's  pullin'  my 
Baby  down  too. 

Madison.  No,  I  's  raisin'  him  up  an'  I  goin'  to  Ian' 
us  all  in  a  sof '  place  on  dat  Easy  Street  I  heah  em  singin* 
'bout  so  long  wifout  seein'. 

Lucy  (suddenly  examining  the  guitar).  Wheah  you 
git  dis  guitar? 

Madison.    What  guitar? 

Lucy.  Dis.  Oh,  Madison,  dis  is  'Zek'l  Williams'  own 
guitar  dat  he  would  n'  sell.  Dis  is  de  guitar  dat  nobody 
could n'  buy.    How  you  come  by  it? 

Madison.  Look  heah,  woman.  You  act  like  I  stole  de 
guitar.    You  don't  think  I  'm  a  thief,  do  you? 

Lucy.    How  you  come  by  hit? 

Madison.     I  got  it  off  Wilson  Byrd. 

Lucy.    Dat  sneakin'  w'ite  man.    How  'd  he  git  it? 

Madison.    I  didn'  ask  him. 

Lucy.     What  you  give  him  fo'  hit? 

Madison.  Oh,  dat  's  anotheh  story.  Him  an'  me  's 
goin'  in  business  togetheh. 

Lucy.  Oh,  Madison,  dat  w'ite  man  stole  dis  guitar. 
Oh,  take  it  back  dis  minute  an'  snatch  youah  soul  from 
de  bu'nin'. 


232  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Madison.  Who,  me?  What  you  tak'  me  fo',  gal? 
Take  back  a  guitar  to  de  rich  man,  de  man  what  own  de 
veiy  house  we  live  in! 

Lucy.    Well,  we  soon  will  buy  it. 

Madison.  Dat  's  right.  We  will.  But  dat  ain'  de 
question.  I  didn  git  dis  guitar  fo'  to  return  it,  I  git  it 
fo'  to  play  it.  I  boun'  to  play  it  cause  I  'm  goin  to  be 
er  rich  man  soon  an'  I  got  to  have  a  plenty  music  in  me. 

Lucy.    You  goin'  to  git  rich  playin'  guitar? 

Madison  {laughing  comfortably).  Eh,  yah,  yah. 
Whoopee!  No,  indeedy.  I  flies  higher  dan  music  flies. 
I  'm  one  er  dese  heah  kin  er  'lectioneerin '  mens  which 
make  dere  money  work  fo'  um.  Dey  sen's  one  dollah 
out  in  de  heat  an'  sweats  her  twell  she  rolls  home  wif 
anutheh. 

Lucy.  How  you  goin '  to  put  money  out,  Madison,  lessen 
you  wuks  an'  gits  de  money? 

Madison  (cunningly).  Oh,  don'  yo'  botheh  youah  haid 
long  er  dat.  I  bin  down  low  and  folks  trample  me  des 
same  as  a  wu'm  but  now  I  'm  goin'  spread  my  wings  an' 
sting  'em  like  a  king  bee.  Whaffo'  I  lay  dere  an'  let'm 
trample  me  ?  'T  were  because  I  lack  conf erdence.  I  puts 
my  'pen'ance  on  dis  promis',  I  puts  my  'pen'ance  on  dat, 
an '  dey  all  fails  me. 

Lucy.    You  ain't  neveh  put  youah  trus'  in  Gawd. 

Madison.  Yassuh,  I  did,  an'  Gawd  He  up  an'  gimme 
de  go-by  too.  What  He  bin  doin' fo' me?  Nuthin',  Now 
I  goin'  spit  on  my  ban's  an'  whu'U  in  an'  trus'  myse'f. 
An'  I  feels  lots  betteh.  I  can  feel  conf  erdence  wukin'  all 
oveh  me.  I  casts  'em  all  off.  I  'm  lookin'  out  fo'  myse'f. 
M-m-m — It  took  me  long  time  to  git  heah  but  now  I  'm 
heah  let  'em  look  out  for  me.     {His  voice  rises  to  a  chant.) 

M-m-m — Midnight  on  de  sea.     All  de  lights  out.     I  'm 


Material  for  Interpretation  ^8S 

carryin*  hod  en  Jacob'  Jaddeh  to  build  me  a  new  house 
an'  I  'm  buildin'  it  high,  man.  Don'  tech  me.  I  'm  a  flame 
of  fieh  an'  I  '11  singe  you  sho'.  If  dey  asks  fo'  me  tell  'em 
say,  "I  saw  somethin'  sailin'  up  but  he  was  headin'  fo'  a 
high  hill  on  de  sun  an'  my  eyes  failed  me."  Tell  'em  say, 
''He  had  de  fo'  win's  runnin'  like  stallions  to  fetch  up 
wif  him  but  dey  carried  'em  out,  an'  buried  'em  in  the 
valley.  He  bus'  dere  hea'ts!"  Tell  'em  say,  **He  was 
herdin'  lightnin's  like  sheep  an'  dey  wuz  too  slow  an'  he 
picked  'em  up  an'  sheared  'em  an'  sent  'em  home." 

Dat  's  me,  I  'm  de  one  you  '11  be  talkin'  'bout.  For 
why?  'Cause  I  cas'  off  ever 'thing  an'  I  puts  my  trus' 
in  myself  an'  nuthin'  can't  hole  me.  De  mo'  I  says  it 
de  mo'  I  feels  conferdence.    I  feels  it  a-wukin'. 

Lucy.    You  goin'  to  wuk,  Madison? 

Madison.  Yes,  indeedy.  I  got  to  wuk'  an'  wuk  ha'd. 
I  can't  shirk  none. 

Lucy.    What  wuk  you  goin'  to  do? 

Madison.  I  'm  a  stock  brokin'  man.  I  goin'  into  de 
stock  brokin'  business  tomorrer. 

Lucy.    How  ? 

Madison.    Buyin'  an'  sellin',  dat  's  how  an'  which  too. 

Lucy.  De  Devil's  wrastlin'  wif  you,  Madison,  an' 
you  's  perishin'  fas'.  Ef  you  keeps  on  in  dis  paf  you  '11 
Ian'  mongs'  de  rocks  er  mournin'.  You  let  somebody 
tu'n  you  roun'. 

Madison.  Not  me.  Nobody  can't  tu'n  me  roun'.  I 
dreamed  it  an'  I  dreamed  it  right,  face  fo'mos'  an'  on  de 
run. 

Lucy.    How  dream? 

Madison.  Las'  night  an'  day  befo'  yistiddy  night  an' 
night  befo'  dat.  I  wuz  layin'  groanin',  **0  Lawd,  how 
long,"    an'    I    heah    a   voice    say,    "Git    up    an'    come 


234  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

a-runnin'/'     Looks  up  an  sees  a  fine  w'ite  saddle  boss. 
Hoss  say, 

**Eide  me  right  an*  I  '11  guide  you  right.'' 

On  I  gits  an'  off  he  goes,  slick  as  a  rancid  transom  car. 
Comes  to  high  hill  lookin'  down  on  de  sun  an'  moon. 
Hoss  stop  an'  say, 

**Brung  you  heah  to  give  you  noos 
De  worl'  is  youahn  to  pick  an'  choose."       * 

I  ax  him  * '  How  dat  ? "    Hoss  say : 

**How  is  how  an'  why  is  why, 
Buy  low  an'  sell  high." 

I  say  to  him,  **I  got  no  money  to  buy.    Wheah  I  goin' 
git  de  fun's  to  buy  low?"    Hoss  respon': 

*  *  Trus '  yo  'se  'f  an '  take  youah  own, 

Git  de  meat  an '  leave  de  bone, 
Bus'  de  nut  an'  fling  'em  de  shell. 
Ride  an'  let  em  walk  a  spell, 
Findeh's  keepeh's,  loseh's  weepeh's, 
I  hope  dese  few  lines  finds  you  well." 

I  ax  him  who  tole  him  all  dis  an'  hoss  say ; 

*  *  Ole  hoss  Grab  will  nevah  balk. 

All  dis  heah  is  w'ite  man  talk." 

Dat  what  de  hoss  say  to  me  in  my  true  dream  ev'y  night 
dis  week  an'  I  'm  a-goin'  to  bide  by  hit  twell  de  las'  er 
pea  time.     'Cause  I  'm  er  true  dreameh  an'  my  mammy 
she  wuz  befo'  me. 
Lucy.    What  come  of  de  hoss  in  de  dream,  Madison? 


Material  for  Interpretation  285 

Mabison.  Dat 's  all.  Hoss  went  up  in  smoke  an' I  come 
down  in  bed. 

Lucy.  Hoss  went  up  in  smoke!  No,  hit  went  down  in 
smoke  an'  fiah. 

Madison.  Now  look-a  heah,  woman.  I  *m  goin'  to  make 
you  a  good  livin'  f  um  now  on.  I  'm  goin'  into  business 
termorrer.  I  'm  goin'  in  de  specalatin'  wu'k.  I  'm  goin' 
to  buy  low  an'  sell  high. 

Lucy.    What  kin  you  buy  wif  ?    You  got  no  money. 

Madison  (hesitating  hut  collecting  his  forces  gradually). 
Oh,  ain  't  I  tell  you  'bout  dat  ?    I  got  it  in  de  dream. 

Lucy.     In  de  dream? 

Madison.  Um  hmmm.  You  know  dat  hoss  I  tole  you 
Hbout.  Well'm  'jes'  fo'  we  pa 'ted  he  prance  up  th'ough 
a  starry  fiel '  an '  come  to  a  gyarden  fence.  Oveh  dat  fence 
}je  lep  an',  man,  she  was  a  fine  gyarden.  ** Whose  patch 
dish  yer?"  I  say  to  him.    Hoss  say: 

'*If  you  asks  me  grab  what  you  see.''    • 

Den  he  reaches  down  an'  pulls  up  a  tu'nip  wif  his  teef 
an'  gives  it  to  me  an'  say, 

**Dis  gyarden  truck  will  fetch  you  luck." 

(He  watches  Lucy  furtively.)  An'  I  takes  an'  sta'ts  to 
peel  dis  tu'nip  an'  what  does  I  find?  I  find  she  's  a  fine 
fat  roll  er  bills,  dem  tu'nip  tops  is  greenbacks. 

Lucy.     So  youah  money  is  dream  money? 

Madison.  Well,  no,  not  ezackly.  De  hoss  whispeh 
sumpin'  in  my  eah  an'  told  me  how  to  make  dat  dream 
money  real  money.  An'  I  took  de  hint  an'  done  it  today. 
An'  on  dat  money  I  '11  buy  low  an'  gouge  'em  all  good. 

Lucy.    How  much  you  got? 


^36  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Madison.  Weirm — {He  hesitates.)  I  got  a  little  an' 
den  some.    I  got  erbout — fifty  er  so. 

Lucjy.     Wheah  you  git  it?     (She  catches  hold  of  him.) 

Madison.  Tu'n  me  loose,  woman.  I  goin'  to  baid.  I 
got  to  make  early  sta't.     {He  pulls  off  his  coat.) 

Lucy  {wildly) .  I  ain'  goin'  to  let  you  stay  in  sin.  {She 
snatches  the  coat  from  him.)  I  goin'  take  dis  money  an' 
make  you  say  wheah  you  got  it. 

{She  begins  hastily  searching  through  the  pockets  of  the 
coat.) 

Madison  {calmly  regarding  her  with  great  good  humor 
and  breaking  into  a  laugh  as  she  fails  in  her  search).  Eh, 
yah,  yah,  sea'ch  an'  look,  sea'ch  an'  look. 

Lucy.  Oh,  Madison,  ain'  you'  got  no  honin'  ter  be 
hones'  at  all? 

Madison.  Hones'!  What  kin'  er  fool  talk  is  dat?  I 
done  got  my  ear-string  bus'  now  an'  dem  preachah  wu'ds 
can 't  fool  me  no  mo '.  You '11  neveh  fin' it,  honey.  'Cause 
why?  'Cause  I  'm  got  it  in  my  pants  an'  I  goin'  to  keep 
it  f 'um  a  foolish  woman. 

Lucy  {rurming  to  him  desperately).  You  got  to  give 
it  to  me. 

Madison.  Gal,  if  you  don'  tu'n  me  loose  I  '11  git  ugly. 
Now,  look  heah.  I  wants  to  heah  de  las'  er  dis.  I  got 
new  ideahs.  I  got  big  plots  en  plans.  I  done  give  you  de 
planl?Bes  in  my  platfo'm  an'  I  'm  a-goin'  to  stan'  on  hit. 
When  I  makes  a  lot  mo'  money  in  de  broker  business  I  'm 
a-goin'  to  give  you  all  de  gold  youah  ap'un  '11  hold,  ev'y 
day  er  youah  life,  an'  you  won'  have  to  wait  long.  But 
till  dat  day  an'  to  dat  time  I  'm  de  treasu'eh  er  dis  lodge 
an'  I  'm  de  stake  holdeh  er  dis  race  an'  dat  money  stays 
in  de  pu'se  in  de  hip  or  my  ol'  jeanses.  {He  says  this  last 
slowly  and  with  growing  emphasis  and  as  he  ends,  gives 


Material  for  Interpretation  237 

himself  a  resounding  whack  on  the  hip  over  his  pocket. 
There  is  a  moment's  pause.  He  puts  his  hand  hurriedly 
in  the  pocket  and  then  dazedly  into  one  on  the  other  hip.) 
What  dis?    Wheah  dat  roll? 

Lucy  {fearfully).  I  ain't  tech  it.  You  know  I  ain* 
ben  neah  you. 

Madison  {rushing  to  her).    Gimme  de  coat. 

{He  Snatches  the  coat  amd  begins  going  through  the 
pockets,  from  time  to  time  searching  and  slapping  the 
garments  he  is  wearing.)  Didn't  you  git  it?  You  mus' 
er  tuk  it. 

Lucy.  No,  Madison,  I  ain'  see  nor  tech  it.  You  watched 
me. 

Madison.    Oh,  Lawd,  he 'p  me  look. 

{He  begins  to  run  around  the  room,  looking  on  the  table, 
picking  up  articles  and  letting  them  fall,  dropping  on  his 
knees  and  hunting  under  the  table  and  chairs.  As  he 
searches  he  grows  more  frantic.) 

Oh,  my  Lawd,  oh,  wheah  is  it?  I  got  to  have  it.  Oh,' 
J  could  n '  lose  it,  hit  ain '  mine  ter  lose.  Stay  by  me, 
Lucy,  an '  he  'p  me  fin '  it ;  git  down  on  youah  knees,  Lucy. 
Oh,  wheah  did  I  drop  it?  I  'm  gittin'  old  an'  needs  it. 
Ef  I  lose  dis  I  lose  all  my  push.  I  was  jes'  goin'  into 
business  an'  we  all  wuz  goin'  to  fly  high.  I  got  to  fin' 
it.  I  ain'  give  up.  Lemme  think.  Oh,  I  hopes  some 
hones'  puson  foun'  it.  Lemme  come  on  down — Know  I 
put  it  on  dat  side  'cause  dat  de  side  Mistah  Long  he  wuz  on 
— Oh,  I  '11  go  crazy — {He  strikes  his  forehead,  groaning.) 

Lucy  {starting).  Mistah  Long!  He  's  cashiah  in  de 
Dime  Savin 's !    How  he  give  you  money  ? 

Madison.  Oh,  lemme  see — he  gimme  de  money  an'  put 
it  right  in  yere.  {He  fumbles  again  distractedly  in  his 
pocket.) 


238  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Lucy  {pursuing  him  desperately).  Onliest  money  at 
de  Dime  Savin 's  is  de  money.  You  could  n  't  draw  hit  out. 
You  didn'  do  dat, — you  could  n' — Tell  me  if  you  did  fo* 
I  '11  fin*  it  out  tomorrer — Oh,  tell  me  true — you  could n' 
when  it  's  in  my  name — tell  me  now  fo'  I  '11  find  it  out. 

Madison.     Oh,  I  can't  stand  it. 

Lucy.  Ef  you  wan'  me  to  he'p  you  den  be  free  wif  me. 
How  you  draw  money  from  de  Bank?  I  give  you  no 
papeh.    You  could  n^  draw  de  money. 

Madison.     Wilson  Byrd,  he  gimme  de  papeh. 

Lucy.     I  give  him  no  papeh. 

Madison.    He  write  it  fo'  you. 

Lucy.  Oh,  Gawd,  dat  w'ite  man  write  my  name.  You 
drawed  de  money — I  see  it  now.  You  had  dealin's  wif  a 
fo'geh,  Wilson  Byrd. 

Madison.  Spar'  me  an'  he'p  me.  He  tol'  me  ef  I  draw 
de  money  he  'd  take  me  into  business  wif  him  an'  gimme 
de  guitar  besides. 

Lucy.  Did  you  spar'  me?  Fifty  doUahs!  You  said 
fifty,  didn'  you?  How  could  you  do  hit?  Moren'  six 
months'  ha'd  slavin'.  Six  months  mo'  befo'  I  can  resto' 
it  back.  I  could  'a'  bought  de  house  tomorrer  mo'nin'  an' 
now  hit  's  six  months  off  to  pay  in  dat  fifty.  It  was  fifty, 
did  n'  you  say?  Maybe  'twuzzn'  dat  much.  Tell  me  right. 
I  '11  fin'  it  out  tomorrer. 

Madison.     Dis  yere  '11  kill  me  ef  I  can't  think. 

Lucy.  How  much  you  draw?  Tell  me  right.  Look 
at  me.  Were  hit  fifty?  {She  hold's  his  eye.)  Less?  Mo'? 
How  much?  {She  continues  to  hold  his  lustreless  eyes, 
reading  them.)  A  hunde'd?  Two  hunde'd?  Eight 
hunde'd?  {A  pause  ensues  as  she  reads  the  truth  in  his 
face.)  All  of  hit.  {She  sinks  in  a  chair.)  Twelve  yeahs' 
labor  sence  I  married  you  an'  termorrer  I  wuz  goin'  t^ 


Material  for  Interpretation  239 

mek  de  payment  an'  we  'd  a  bin  nndeh  owah  own  roof. 
I  'm  done,  I  could  a  paid  off  pa't,  mebbe  fifty,  but  I  won' 
las'  twelve  yeahs  mo'  at  de  same  thing.  But  I  thank  Thee, 
Lawd,  dat  it  wuz  stole  f 'um  us  all  ef  hit  had  to  be  stole. 

Madison.  Ef  I  could  on'y  think.  Had  hit  in  de  bank 
— felt  hit  an'  had  it  on  Thu'd  Street — slapped  hit  an'  had 
it  at  Joe's  house — slapped  hit  an'  had  it  coming  up  de 
alley — jes'  fo'  I  clum  de  hill — lemme  see — clum  de  hill — 
went  in  th'oo  Wilson  Byrd's  hedge  fence — he  gimme  de 
guitar — scrape  my  back  comin'  out — (His  face  shows 
gradual  recollection,  and  suddenly  'brightens.)  I  knows 
now !  Dat  's  hit !  In  dat  white  man 's  yard  where  he 
gimme  de  guitar!  I  wuz  jes'  goin'  to  give  him  de  money 
when  somebody  grabbed  him  f'um  behin'.  He  give  a 
squawk  an'  skeered  me.  I  run  out  th'oo  his  hedge  fence 
an'  scrape  my  back.  I  scrape  de  pocketbook  out.  She's 
dere!  In  dat  Wilson  Byrd's  yard.  I  '11  git  it  yit.  Watch 
me.  {He  grabs  his  hat  and  runs  excitedly  toward  the 
door.) 

Lucy  {rushing  toward  him).  No,  sumpin'  might  hap- 
pen. You  might  git  mix  up  wif  him  ergin.  Lemme  go, 
but  I  mus'  resto'  dis  guitar  at  Uncle  Williams'  as  I  go 
by  his  house.  I  '11  slip  it  on  his  porch.  Maybe  he  '11  neveh 
know  it  wuz  gone.  Oh,  if  somebody  had  seen  it  heah! 
How  could  I  have  stood  it  ? 

(She  puts  on  a  shawl  and  takes  up  the  bag,  but  as  she 
lays  her  hand  on  the  door-knob  a  loud  knock  is  heard  on 
the  door.  Both  start  hack  and  wait.  The  knock  is  re- 
peated. She  throws  off  the  shawl,  places  the  bag  in  a 
corner,  and  returning  to  the  door,  opens  it.  She  greets 
the  visitor  in  a  strained  voice,  almost  with  a  shriek.) 

Uncle  Williams!     Step  in,  please. 

(A  man  enters.    The  newcomer  is  old,  with  whMe  hair 


240  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

and  heard.  He  is  probably  of  Moorish  descent.  He  is 
so  small  wnd  weazened  as  to  he  almost  a  dwarf,  hut  his 
whole  d&meanor  indicates  great  latent  power.  A  strong 
personality,  dominating  the  two  others  from  the  first 
instant. ) 

Williams.     Good  evenin',  Lucy. 

(He  seems  to  he  unaware  of  the  presence  of  Madison. 
He  comes  forward  with  little  mincing  steps  and  an  old 
man's  gesture,  then  takes  off  his  hat  and  sees  about  him. 
The  others  stand  watching  him  transfixed.) 

Ain'  you  go  in'  shut  de  do',  Lucy?  I  feels  draf's.  I  'm 
gittin'  old  an'  catches  cold  easy.  Ain'  you  goin'  take 
my  hat?  {She  reaches  for  it  mechamcally,  watching  hvm 
apprehensively.)  No,  de  hat — not  de  stick — ol'  pu'son 
like  me  always  need  good  stout  stick  er  club  case  er  havin ' 
faintin'  spell — ^sumpin'  to  lean  on.  Now,  wheah  a  cheer, 
better  fetch  me  er  cheer  fo'  feah  I  might  set  on  sumpin' 
you  wouldn't  choose  fo'  me.  (She  obeys  dumbly  and 
brings  a  chair  to  him.)  Set  it  neareh.  Dat  's  right.  Now 
gimme  youah  shouldeh  an'  ease  me  down.  Ah — (He  leans 
heavily  on  her  and  sinks  totteringly  into  the  chair  with 
a  great  show  of  feebleness.)  Now  take  a  cheer  yo'se'f. 
I  'sprize  to  see  a  lady  standin'  an'  me  takin'  my  res',  old 
ez  I  is.  {She  obeys,  watching  him  with  doubt  and  dread.) 
Set  it  dah,  wheah  I  can  see  you  good.  (Madison  is  stand- 
ing up  by  the  wall,  right,  gazing  at  him  as  though 
paralyzed  with  fear.)  Dah  now.  We  kin  be  ca'm  and 
have  a  nice  talk.  Does  you  know  what  business  I  come 
yere  fo'  tonight?     {He  pauses.)    You  does,  doesn't  you? 

Lucy  {almost  beside  herself  with  nervonis  tension). 
You — come  to  see — ef — {Recovering  herself  with  a  mighty 
effort.)  Oh,  yes,  you  come  to  look  oveh  de  stove  an'  see 
ef  you  like  to  buy  hit. 


Material  for  Interpretation  241 

Williams  {musingly).  M-m.  Well,  I  reckon — dat  *8 
hit.  Yes,  dey  tells  me  y'all  has  a  wahmin'  stove  to  sell 
an'  now  katydid  cease,  fros'  ain'  fur  off,  an'  I  needs  hit. 
Is  dish  yere  de  one? 

Lucy  {rising  and  rushing  toward  door  at  side).  No, 
not  dat.    Hit  's  outside — ef  you  please  to  step  out. 

Williams.  Well  'm,  I  '11  take  'n  look  her  oveh.  {She 
hastily  lights  a  candle  as  he  rises  and  totters  in  the  wrong 
direction. ) 

Lucy.  Th'oo  heah,  th'oo  heah.  De  stove  's  out  in  de 
woodshed.     {She  grasps  and  guides  him.) 

Williams.  Ah — well'm.  Um  hm.  I  always  gives 
things  er  good  lookin'  oveh  befo'  takin'  stock  in  'm.  You 
need  n '  come  erlong.  I  lived  so  long  in  dis  house  befo ' 
you  wuz  bawn  dat  I  knows  my  way.  Is  de  stove  an  easy 
wood  eateh? 

Lucy.  Yes,  yes.  {She  gives  him  the  candle  and  almost 
pushes  him  through  doorway  at  side  as  she  follows  him 
out.  Madison,  who  has  watched  fearfully  from  a  dark 
corner,  darts  forward  and  looks  after  them,  listening.  He 
then  runs  toward  the  door  at  hack  but  hesitates  hefore  it 
and  turns  as  Lucy  comes  swiftly  in  from  outer  room,  clos- 
ing the  door  softly.) 

Madison.    What  he  say?    Do  he  know? 

Lucy  {desperately  seizing  the  hag  and  pressing  it  into 
his  hands  as  she  turns  him  again  toward  doorway  at  hack) . 
Oh,  I  cain'  tell.  On'y  resto'  dis  in  case  he  don'  know  er 
case  he  do.    Now  's  de  one  chance  to  be  hones'. 

Madison.    Huh.    What  erbout  dat  eight  hunderd  doUah  ? 

Lucy.     I  don'  know.    Trus'  Gawd  an'  be  hones'. 

Madison.  Huh  uh.  One  of  us  has  got  to  go  look  fo'  dat 
money. 

Lucy.    One  of  us  has  got  to  take  back  de  guitar. 


242  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Madison.    I  'm  goin'  fo'  de  money. 

Lucy.  Den  I  '11  take  dis.  {She  takes  up  the  guitar  and 
she  and  Madison  go  toward  door  at  back.  Then  she  halts.) 
Oh,  Madison,  you  can  do  bofe.  One  of  us  has  got  to  stay 
wif  Uncle  Williams.    But  take  back  de  guitar  first. 

Madison.  All  right.  I  '11  go.  An'  I  ain't  played  on 
dis  heah  but  twice.     {He  takes  the  guitar  from  her.) 

Lucy.  Go  now.  Can  you  fin'  youah  way  to  his  porch 
in  de  dahk? 

Madison.  Will  we  find  de  money?  Dat  's  de  p'oblem 
I  wants  de  anseh  fo'. 

(Lucy  opens  door  at  hack  to  go  out.  Madison  is  at  her 
side.  Both  start  hack.  Williams  stands  before  them  in 
the  open  doorway.) 

Lucy  {haltingly,  after  a  pause).  How — ^you  like — de 
stove  ? 

Williams  {entering  more  vigorously  than  before), 
Well'm  befo'  we  goes  any  furder  we  betteh  come  neareh 
de  real  p'int  and  question.  I  didn't  come  fo'  no  stove 
dis  night.     (Madison  shrinks  back  into  the  shadows.) 

Lucy  {slowly).    Yo' — don' — wan' — 

Williams.  No'm.  To  be  sho',  I  might  tek  de  stove 
one  er  dese  days,  but  dat  ain'  my  erran'  now.  Hit  's  dis; 
does  you  know  when  we  mek  de  bargum  about  you  buying 
dis  heah  house? 

Lucy.     Twelve  yeah  ago. 

Williams.  Gal,  you  dreamin'!  'T  were  n't  but  las' 
year.  'T  were  de  fus'  er  Octobah  las'  year  an'  I  say  I 
gives  you  de  refusals  for  one  yeah.     'Membeh  dat? 

Lucy.    Yassuh. 

Williams.  So  fur  so  good.  Now  does  you  know  what 
day  de  month  dis  is? 

Lucy.    Fus'  er  Octobah. 


Material  for  Interpretation  243 

Williams.    Dat  's  true  as  preachin  \    "Well  'm,  time 's  up. 

Lucy.    What  you  mean  ? 

Williams.  I  'm  er  man  er  my  wuhd.  Pay  me  de  money 
an'  tek  de  house. 

Lucy.     Termorrer — 

Williams.     No.     Termorrer  won '  do. 

Lucy.  Why  you  push  me  so?  Oh,  please  spar'  me  an' 
wait — wait  anutheh  day. 

Williams.  No,  I  'm  er  business  man.  I  kin  sell  de 
house  fer  mo'  money  termorrer  but  I  hold's  to  my  wuhd 
ter  sell  it  to  you.  I  holds  to  it  an'  loses  money,  but  it 
falls'  due  dis  day  an'  night  an'  I  won'  stretch  it  one  jump 
er  my  hea't. 

Lucy.     You  know — de  bank — ain't  open — 

Williams.  Sign  de  check  fer  hit.  You  kin  do  dat, 
cain't  you? 

Lucy.    I — s  'pose — I — kin. 

Williams.  Den  up  an'  do  hit.  Heah's  er  check,  all 
wrote  out  but  de  signin'.  (She  takes  the  check  he  pro- 
duces.) An'  heah  's  one  er  dese  fountum  pins.  {She  takes 
the  pen.)  Octobeh  fus' — pay  to  Zek'l  Williams — eight 
hunderd  doUahs.  Des  write  '*Lucy  Sparrow."  (She 
mechanically  turns  to  do  so.)  Looks  easy,  sho'.  But  de 
law  allows  hit;  dis  writin'  out  money.  {He  pauses,  then 
adds  impressively.)  Dat  is,  ef  you  got  de  money  in  de 
bank.  Co'se  ef  de  money  ain'  dah  an'  you,  writes  de  check 
fer  hit  de  law  puts  you  in  State  prism.  {She  stops  and 
stares  at  him.  The  pen  falls  from  her  hand  and  the  check 
flutters  to  the  floor.)  What  de  matteh?  You  wants  de 
house,  don'  you?  (Lucy's  head  sinks.)  An'  you  got  de 
money,  ain'  you? 

Madison.  Dat  's  de  question.  {He  comes  forward  out 
of  the  shadow.) 


244  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

William  {seemingly  observing  Madison  for  the  first 
time  during  the  evening).  Why,  heighyo,  Madison.  I  bin 
lookin'  fer  you  dis  very  evenin'.    Whah  you  bin? 

Madison.    Bin  home. 

Williams.  Sho'ly  not,  Madison,  sholy  not  all  evenin'? 
Has  you  ? 

Madison.    Yes. 

Williams.  Well,  ain'  dat  de  whu'lygig?  I  wuz  lookin' 
fer  you  at  Pratt's  sto'  at  eight  o'clock  an'  day  say  you 
jes'  lef  dah.    You  wuz  dah,  were  n't  you? 

Madison.    No,  suh. 

Williams.  Well,  dere  I  am  fool  agin.  An'  who  you 
think  done  fool  me? 

Madison.    Dunno. 

Williams.  Well  suh,  'twere  n't  no  one  but — (Ee 
pauses  a  moment.)     Wilson  Byrd. 

Lucy.     Byrd!     {Springing  to  her  feet  with  the  shock.) 

Williams  {after  watching  the  two  a  moment).  So  you 
ain'  got  de  money  no  mo',  is  you?  {They  are  speechless 
before  him.)  I  knows  you  ain'  ca'se  I  knows  who  ha^ 
got  hit. 

Madison  {involuntarily).    Who? 

Williams.  I  has.  {He  observes  them  and  then  chuckles 
softly.)  I  has  de  money  an'  de  bargum  's  closed,  fer  de 
goods  is  bin  delivered  an'  dey  're  right  in  dis  room  in  dat 
corner.  One  guitar  at  eight  hunderd  dollahs.  Insterments 
comes  higher  'n  what  dey  did  once  but  you  would  have  it 
an'  now  you  got  it  an'  everybody  's  fixed. 

Madison  {groaning  and  bending  over  the  table).    Oh! 

Williams.  Yassuh,  de  man  what  buys  guitars  at  dat 
price  su'tinly  plays  on  de  golden  strings.  Eight  hunderd 
fer  one  guitar  makes  'm  mighty  near  twenty  thousand 
dollehs  er  dozen.  De  cos'  er  livin'  is  shore  gone  up  but 
ef  you  mus'  you  mus'. 


Material  for  Interpretation  245 

Madison.     Oh ! 

Williams.  Well,  I  cain'  stay  heah,  I  got  er  be  amblin' 
on.  I  much  erblige  ter  you  to  mek  youah  plans  to  move 
out  er  heah  fo'  I  got  ter  sell  de  house  befo'  sundown. 
Well,  so  long,  an'  I  hopes  you  gits  all  de  good  er  youah 
high  price  music.  (He  turns  again  with  his  feeble  old 
man's  step  toward  the  doorway,  putting  on  his  hat.)  I 
wish  y'all  good  evenin'. 

Madison  {moving  toward  him  with  the  threatening  de- 
termination of  despair) .  Say,  I  Ve  got  to  have  dat  money. 
I  sees  red.    I  'm  gone  bad  an'  I  '11  kill  befo'  I  '11  lose  hit. 

(Williams  suddenly  turns  with  a  swiftness  and  agility 
astounding  in  so  old  a  mxin.  Starting  forward  he  confronts 
Madison  with  such  dominance  and  fire  that  he  seems 
suddenly  to  tower.) 

Williams.  You  kill  me!  You  tek  money  away  from 
me!  Why,  you  po'  grain  er  chaff,  you  don'  know  me. 
I  'm  a  king  in  my  own  right.  I  got  ways  an'  means  er 
pertecktin'  myse'f  dat  you  don'  even  dream  on  an'  I  don' 
need  to  lay  a  fingeh  on  you  to  do  hit.  Furdermo'  I  could 
brain  you  wif  dis  stick  but  ef  you  cross  me  I  won'  be  dat 
easy  on  you.  Ef  you  don'  wan  wuss'n  dat  don'  cross  me 
no  furder  er  youah  troubles  '11  begin  fer  fa'r. 

Lucy.     Oh,  please  don'  lay  nothin'  on  him. 

Williams.  You  po'  sufferin'  gal,  I  won'  lay  nothin' 
onto  'im  but  I  'm  to  tek  sumpin  off'n  you.  I  'm  goin' 
tek  de  bur  ding  er  dish  yere  pack  er  laziness  off'n  you. 
An'  fus'  I  wants  ter  show  you  dish  yere  piece  er  papeh. 
(He  produces  a  folded  document  and  open^  it.)  Does  you 
know  who  wrote  it?  Answeh  me.  {He  shoves  the  paper 
under  Madison's  eye.) 

Madison.     It  looks  like  dat  Wilson  Byrd's  writin\ 

Williams.  Yassuh,  an'  what  's  mo'  it  is  dat  man's 
writin'.    It  's  his  confession  dat  he  fo'ge  Lucy  Sparrow's 


246  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

name.  I  saw  dat  man  steal  my  guitar  an'  follered  him 
home.  Dah  I  grabbed  him,  dah  I  foun'  de  purse  wif 
Lucy's  name  inside  an'  dah  I  made  dat  thief  write  out 
his  confession.  Knowed  so  much  of  his  meanness  already 
dat  he  had  to  do  hit.  An'  now  I  owns  you.  Does  you 
undehstan '  dat  ?    Answeh  me. 

Madison.     Yas  suh,  no  suh. 

Williams.  Well,  I  '11  take  'n  cl'ar  up  de  myst'ry  fer 
you.  I  got  dis  confession  outer  Byrd  an'  got  other  things 
ter  prove  hit  an'  I  kin  bring  him  an'  you  too,  bofe  befo' 
de  gran'  jury. 

Lucy.  Oh,  my  sweet  Jesus,  save  him.  {The  old  man 
stands  watching  the  two  before  him  for  some  time  in  silence. 
Lucy  falls  on  her  knees  before  him.)  Oh,  don't  sen' 
Madison  to  de  lawyers. 

Williams.     No,  Lucy,  I  ain't  wishful  ter. 

Lucy.    You  won't? 

Williams.  Mebbe  not.  But  fus',  les'  put  all  dis  talk 
aside  dat  I  bin  talkin'  up  to  now.  I  bin  puttin'  on  an' 
pretendin'  in  ordeh  ter  try  you  bofe  an'  sif '  de  chaff  from 
grain  in  you.  I  des  bin  playin'  wif  you  ter  see  how  good 
you  is  an '  how  ornry  dish  yere  man  er  youahn  is.  Yit  I  '11 
take  an'  give  him  er  chance  even  so,  an'  I  '11  pluck  him  f 'um 
he  bu'nin'  ef  he  f oilers  de  paf  I  p'ints  out  ter  him.  But 
we  all  got  ter  have  cl'ar  unde 'stan 'in '  'bout  dat.  Fus'  an' 
fo'mos'  youah  money  is  all  safe  wif  me.  De  house  is 
youah  'n. 

Lucy.    You  means  you  sell  it  fer  de  money. 

Williams.  In  co  'se.  You  did  n  't  speck  I  'd  steal,  too, 
like  a  w'ite  man,  did  you?  I  '11  fetch  you  de  deeds  fo'  hit 
fus'  thing  in  de  mo'nin^ 

Lucy.  Oh,  fu'give  me,  I  was  all  mix  up.  But  you  won' 
sen'  Madison  to  de  gran'  jury  neitheh? 


Material  for  Interpretation  247 

Williams.    I  say  I  ain'  honin'  ter. 

Lucy.    Oh,  my  Makeh,  I  thank  Thee  fo'  Thy  mercy. 

Williams.  But  I  shorely  goin'  to  put  dis  man  er 
youah'n  th'oo  er  tes'  ter  see  whetheh  he  's  fitten  ter  keep 
out  er  jail.    Madison,  will  tek  er  tes'? 

Madison  (humbly).    Yassuh.    What  is  it? 

Williams.    A  guitar. 

Madison.    A  guitar! 

Williams.  Yassuh,  dat  's  hit,  no  mo'  ner  no  less.  I  'm 
goin'  give  you  dat  guitar  —  but  —  dere's  suhtinly  goin'  to 
be  a  string  tied  to  it.  You  kin  take  dat  guitar,  but  you  got 
to  make  somethin'  outer  yourself  wif  her  or  back  she  '11 
come  to  me.  You  kin  give  lessons  an'  learn  folks  music  or 
you  kin  write  down  de  music  you  make,  but  you  got  to  do 
somethin'  wif  it  fer  Lucy.  You  got  to  wake  up  or  I  '11  take 
de  guitar.    Which  '11  it  be  ?    Make  youah  choice. 

Madison  (crushed).    I  '11 — keep  de  guitar. 

Williams.  An'  dat  ain'  all.  You  got  ter  quit  runnin' 
wif  Byrd  an'  Byrd  wif  you,  you  got  ter  be  a  better  husban' 
an'  you  got  to  min'  everj^hing  Lucy  tells  you.  Will  you 
do  hit? 

Madison.    Yassuh. 

Williams.  An'  you  ain'  much  of  er  temp'unce  man 
neitheh,  is  you,  Madison? 

Madison.    I's  a  temp'unce  man  but  I  ain'  no  frantic. 

Williams.  Well,  suh,  you  got  ter  jine  de  frantics  now. 
No  dram  drinking  at  all.    Will  you  quit  hit  er  go  ter  jail? 

Madison.    I  '11  quit. 

Williams.  Well,  dat  's  on'y  a  promise  but  I  '11  shore 
hoi'  you  to  hit  er  put  you  behin'  de  bahs.  Why,  look  heah, 
man,  does  you  know  how  you  stan '  pon  top  er  dis  yu  'th  ? 
Does  you  know  how  you  liken  to  er  tree  ?  S  'posin '  sumpin ' 
wif  er  cool  eye  like  er  tree  could  see  you  an  talk.    I  cain' 


248  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

jedge  you  ca'm  but  er  tree  could.  Tree  would  look  at  you 
and  say,  "Does  dat  'ere  man  wu'k?"  Win'  'ud  whispeh, 
*'No."  "Do  he  eat?"  "Yas  'n  git  fat,"  respon'  de  win'. 
"Who  shines  on  him?"  "His  wife,"  win'  say.  "Do  he 
put  fo'th  flower  an'  bless  de  wife?"  say  de  tree.  "No." 
"Do  he  give  shade  an'  shelteh  ter  de  wife?"  say  de  tree. 
"No."  Well,  chop  'm  down  an'  bu'n  him  befo'  he  rots," 
say  de  tree.  "Dat  's  all."  But  mebby  I  kin  mek  mo'  of 
him  dan  dat  an'  so  I  '11  try  prunin'  him  an'  graftin'  some 
good  labeh  onto  him.  An'  I  kin'  er  think  hit  '11  sabe  him 
yit.  Well'm,  I  must  be  er  goin'  now.  Hit  's  late  an'  I  must 
git  my  res'  fer  I  got  to  do  a  lot  er  bossin'  termorrer  an* 
dat  's  allers  ha'd  fer  me.  Lucy,  I  '11  fetch  you  de  deeds  ter 
de  house  befo'  nine  termorrer  an'  Madison,  you  kin  repo't 
to  me  at  eight  o'clock  sha'p  an'  give  my  little  boy  a  lesson 
on  de  guitar.    You  11  be  dah,  won 't  you  ? 

Madison  (meekly).    Yassuh. 

Williams.    Ready  to  whu'l  in  an'  scratch. 

Madison.    Yassuh. 

Williams.  Well,  den,  les'  all  shek  ban's  on  de  noo  nes' 
an'  de  noo  aig.  (They  shake  hands.  He  puts  on  his  hat 
and  turns  to  the  door.) 

An'  dat  remin's  me,  Lucy,  you  better  tell  Madison  to 
play  on  dat  guitar  a  plenty  tonight  because  he  '11  need  music 
fer  to  Stan'  up  undeh  all  de  lessons  I  'm  goin'  to  lay  onto 
him.  Well,  I  wish  you  good  night.  I'm  er  gittin'  kin'er 
ole  an'  I  cain'  stay  up  late  no  mo'  without  bein'  crosser  in 
de  mornin'.  Good  night  den  an'  far'  you  well  bofe.  Eight 
o'clock,  Madison.  Good  night.  (He  goes,  closing  the  door 
after  him.  The  pair  stand  silent  for  a  moment,  Madison 
mth  hanging  head  and\  in  deep  dejection. ) 

Lucy  (throwing  her  arms  around  him).  Oh,  my  hus- 
ban',  I  '11  pray  fer  you.    Don'  sorrer  now.    Git  youah  res' 


Material  for  Interpretation  249 

tonight.  We  kin  be  hones'  now.  We  've  got  de  house  at 
las'  an  heah's  de  guitar. 

Madison.  Yassuh,  heah's  de  guitar.  {He  plays  it  and 
fondles  it.  Then  his  face  assumes  again  its  melancholy 
look.) 

Lucy.    What's  de  trouble? 

Madison.  I  don'  undestan'  dis  worl'.  If  I  wants  to 
make  music  why  cain't  folks  lemme  alone  to  make  music? 
If  I  dream  a  fine  dream  why  is  it  I  always  wake  up  ?  Looks 
to  me  like  somebody  's  always  tryin'  to  crowd  me  out  an'  git 
me  in  a  tight  place. 

Lucy.  You  wuz  doin'  all  right  till  you  got  mix  up 
wif  dat  white  man  an'  his  tricks.  De  trouble  wuz  dat  dis 
dream  of  youah's  wuz  n't  a  good  dream. 

Madison.    Yes,  but  not  all  of  my  dreams  is  bad  ones.    All 

I  wants  is  room  to  dream  my  good  dreams  an'  make  my 

own  music.  t>  •  ^    7    m 

Bidgely  Torrence. 


SPOILING  THE  BROTH  ^ 

(Characters) 

Mrs.  Chance  (a  widow  about  thirty -eight) . 

Joey  Chance  {her  son,  a  youth  about  seventeen). 

David  Wells   {the  lodger,  about  the  same  age  as  Mrs. 

Chance). 
'Mella.  Hammond  {a  factory  girl). 

Scene:  Mrs.  Chance's  kitchen;  fire  l,  doors  c  and  r, 
dresser  rc,  kitchen  table  c,  chairs  l,  against  wall  and  at 
back;  plates  and  dishes,  &c.  on  dresser,  clock  on  chimney 
piece,  saucepan  simmering  on  the  fire. 

*A11  acting  rights  reserved.  Permission  from  Samuel  French,  28 
West  38th  St.,  New  York  City,  and  Messrs.  Chapman  and  HaU,  Ltd., 
11  Henrietta  St.,  London,  England. 


250  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

{Cockney  Dialect) 

(Joey  Chancje,  a  loutish  looking  youth  of  between  six- 
teen and  seventeen,  is  sitting  in  chair  by  the  fire,  gazing  at 
the  clock  and  looking  very  sick.  He  holds  in  his  hand  a 
small  bottle  with  the  cork  out.) 

Joey.  Quarter  to  six — ^time  for  another  dose.  (Lifts 
bottle  to  his  lips,  then  removes  it  and  reads  label.)  No,  it 
wants  just  a  minute  to  the  quarter.  The  bloke  says  as  how 
I  must  be  exact.  [Beads.)  ''Love  Potion  spershully  com- 
pounded for  Joseph  Chance,  by  Professor  Swornorff,  the 
inventor  of  the  unrivalled  anti-drink  powder,  one  dose 
should  be  taken  exacly  twenty-four  hours  after  a  rift  'as 
occurred  between  lovers" — yuss,  at  'arf  pas'  five  lars  night 
'Melia  'Ammond  gave  me  the  go  bye  for  Bert  Green,  becos 
'e  'ad  a  gallery  pass  giv'  'im  for  the  'ippodrome.  I  'd  like 
to  knock  'is  sjlly  'ead  orf  if  'e  wos  n  't  'arf  a  foot  bigger  'n 
me.  I  took  the  first  dose  at  'arf  pas'  five  exack.  "Second 
dose  to  be  taken  fifteen  minutes  later,  and  the  third  fifteen 
minutes  after  that,  each  one  calling  on  the  name  of  the 
beloved  one."  (Raises  bottle.)  'Melia  'Ammond,  I  looks 
towards  yer,  as  I  'opes  yer  'eart  may  be  turned  towards 

me.    (Drinks.)    Of  all  the  beastly (Half  chokes.)    Oh, 

'Melia,  wot  I  'm  goin'  through  fer  you! — Ugh!  (Subsides 
in  the  chair  looking  sicker  than  ever.) 

(Mrs.  Chance,  a  bright  cheery  looking  woma/n,  bustles 
in  with  a  bag  for  marketing  on  her  arm.) 

Mrs.  Chance.  Joey  ? — Joey  ? — Bless  the  boy,  where  can 
he  be. 

Joey  (still  feeling  sick  and  sorry  from  the  effects  of  the 
love  potion).     'Ere. 

Mrs.  Chance  (taking  parcels  from  bag  and  putting  them 
on  dresser).     Is  that  a  way  to  speak  to  yer  mother?— 


Material  for  Interpretation  251 

An'  I  Ve  bought  a  bit  extry  fer  our  supper,  seein'  as  it  's 
yer  birfday. 

Joey  (limply.)     'As  yer? 

Mrs.  Chance.  There's  as  nice  a  bit  of  pickled  pork  as 
yer  could  wish  to  see,  an'  some  winkles  an'  a  nice  fat  bit 
of  'am. 

Joey  (looking  as  if  the  mere  mention  of  the  things  were 
more  than  he  could  stand) .    Is  there  ? 

Mrs.  Chance.  Well  I  never,  now ! — ^'^hat  's  up  with  you, 
Joey!  what  'ave  you  been  an'  done?  (Comes  dovm  to  a 
little  L.  of  table.) 

Joey  (sulkily).  Nothin'  .  I  ain't  a  bin  doin'  nothin'. 
Wot  should  I  'a  bin  a  doin'  of? 

Mrs.  Chance  (anxiously).  You  ain't  bin  roun'  to  the 
** Seven  Stars"  agin,  'ave  yer,  Joey? 

Joey.    Wot  if  I  'ad?    I'm  a  man,  ain't  I? 

Mrs.  Chance.  Gettin'  on  that  way,  but  oh,  Joey,  don't 
you  go  and  take  to  the  drink.  It  would  nearly  break  my 
'eart.  You  must  remember  'ow  yer  father,  pore  feller — 
(wiping  her  eyes).    But  there,  'e  's  dead 

Joey.    Yus,  a  good  job 

Mrs.  Chance  (horrified).  Joey!  (Pauses  in  her  work 
of  arranging  dishes.) 

Joey.    Fer  'im!     (Rises  and  slouches  to  the  door.) 

Mrs.  Chance.  Now  don't  yer  go  away  in  a  temper,  Joey. 
I  'm  yer  mother,  an — an — ^I  wants  to  see  yer  grow  up  a 
steady  respeckable  young  man  like 

Joey  (chanting) .  '  *  Our  lodger  's  sech  a  nice  young  man, 
a  nice  young  man  is  'e. "    I  don '  think. 

Mrs.  Chance.  I  'm  sure  Mr.  Wells  'as  bin  a  real  blessing 
to  us,  an'  wot  I  should  'ave  done  without  'is  little  bit  of 
rent  coming  in  as  reglar  as  clockwork,  I  don'  know.  It  's  a 
great  thing  fer  you,  Joey,  'aving  sech  a  good  example  in 
front  of  yer. 


252  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Joey.     'Ere    'e  is,  since  yer  thinks  seeh  a  lot  on  him. 

{Enter  David  Wells,  a  well  set  up,  fine  specimen  of  the 
British  working  man;  he  carries  a  carpenter* s  hag.) 

David.  Evenin',  Mrs.  Chance.  Evenin',  Joey.  {Hangs 
up  cap.) 

Mrs.  Chance.    Good  evenin',  Mr.  Wells. 

Joey  {sulkily).    Evenin'.    {He  slouches  to  the  door,) 

Mrs.  Chance.    Where  are  yer  goin',  Joey? 

Joey.    Aht.    {Exits  scowling  at  David.) 

David.    Wot 'sup? 

Mrs.  Chance.  Per'aps  the  pore  boy  ain't  well.  There  's 
a  lot  of  that  nasty  inferlenzera  abaht.  I  '11  make  the  boy 
some  nice  gruel  fer  'is  supper,  like  wot  I  did  when  he  was 
a  little  lad.  {Takes  oatmeal  from  tin  on  dresser,  mixing 
and  stirring  with  water  in  saucepan,  which  she  then  sets  on 
hoh.)  'E  did  n't  seem  to  fancy  anything  that  I  'ad  bought. 
Fair  turned  up  'is  nose  at  the  pickled  pork,  and  the  winkles 
didn't  seem  to  attract  'im  neither. 

David.    Yer  spoilin'  that  lad,  that  's  wot  yer  doin'. 

Mrs.  Chance.  It  's  hard  not  to.  'E  's  all  I  've  got  to  spoil 
an'  do  for.  I  'm  one  of  those  that  must  'ave  sutthin'  or 
someone  to  fuss  after,  an '  'e  's  all  I  've  got.  Bless  the  man, 
what  ever  are  you  starin'  at  me  for  like  that.  Yer  can 
smoke  if  yer  wants  to. 

David  {taking  his  pipe  out  and  filling  it  mechanically, 
much  too  shy  to  say  at  the  moment  what  he  wants  to). 
Thank  you,  Mrs.  Chance. 

Mrs.  Chance.  I'm  not  one  to  mind  the  smell  of  a  pipe. 
Out  of  the  way  please,  Mr.  Wells,  I  just  want  to  put  this 
on  the  'ob.  I  don't  'old  with  objectin'  to  this  an'  that  an' 
the  other  that  don't  really  matter.  {Puts  on  saucepan.) 
But  I  'm  sorry  as  you  thinks  I  'm  spoilin '  Joey,  but  'e  's  got 
such  a  way  with  'im ;  just  like  'is  father's  w'en  'e  happened 
to  be  sober. 


Material  for  Interpretation  253 

David.  Them  as  drinks  often  'as  ways  with  'em  that 
them  as  doesn't  would  give  a  month's  earnin's  to  'ave. 
Ways  of  sayin '  things  that 

Mrs.  Chance.  That  you  'as n't,  Mr.  Wells.  You  're  a 
bit  late  tonight,  ain't  you,  fer  Saturday?  (Cromes  to 
dresser  and  goes  on  prepa/ring.) 

David  (nervously  fidgeting  with  something  in  the  hag), 
Yer  see,  it 's  Joey 's  birthday 

Mrs.  Chance.  An'  you  been  buyin'  'im  a  present.  Well, 
I  do  take  it  kind  of  you ! 

David  (coyly).  It  ain't  exactly  fer  'im — it  's  fer  you. 
You  're  a  givin '  'im  presents  all  the  time,  and  it  don 't  seem 
fair — so  I  bought  this!  (disploAfs  mth  pride  a  blue  glass 
vase). 

Mrs.  Chance.  Ain't  it  beautiful !  But  you  didn't  ought 
to  waste  yer  money  like  this;  you'll  be  thinkin'  of  getting 
married  one  of  these  days.  A  nice  bright  bit  of  colour 
this  '11    make  on  the  chimney,  won't  it? 

David.  I  'd  have  liked  to  make  it  something  more — more 
personal  like.  A — a  brooch  or  a  ring,  only  I  did  n  't  rightly 
feel  sure  'ow  you  'd  take  it !  But  that  is  a  bit  tasty  now, 
ain't  it? 

Mrs.  Chance.    Tasty !    It  's  fit  for  a  palace. 

David.  Glad  I  've  been  able  to  'it  off  your  fancy  in  this 
little  matter — I  wish  as  I  might  in  some  other.  (With  an 
outhursrt  of  confidence.) 

Mrs.  Chance.  I  'm  sure  Joey  '11  like  it.  I  likes  to  keep 
the  'ome  bright  and  'appy  for  'im,  pore  lamb,  it  may  'elp  to 
keep  'im  away  from  the  "Seven  Stars"  or  that  there  'Melia 
'Ammond,  what's  always  a  lookin'  after  'im. 

David.  Calf  love;  don't  you  worry,  'e  '11  outgrow  it. 
We  all  goes  through  it,  but  it  don't  'ardly  ever  last.  It  's 
different  with  older  people,  Mrs.  Chance. 


254  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Mrs.  Chance.  It  's  the  ** Seven  Stars"  I  mind  most 
about.  {Turns  the  vase  up.)  Wy;  it  's  all  full  of  'ay! 
The  stuff  it  's  bin  packed  in,  I  suppose.  I  '11  go  and  wash  it 
out.     (Exit  R.) 

David.  I  '11  go  and  'ave  a  wash  and  brush  up  f er  supper. 
H'm,  goin'  on  the  loose,  are  yer,  Joey ;  breakin'  yer  mother's 
'eart.  I'll  soon  put  a  stop  to  that.  {Takes  small  packet 
from  his  pocket  and  reads  directions.)  ** Professor  Swor- 
norff,  the  distinguished  Russian  Physician  completely  de- 
stroys the  drink  habit,  by  the  use  of  his  unrivalled  powder. 
Three  packets  usually  complete  a  cure.  Dissolve  'arf  a 
packet  at  each  meal  in  the  patient's  food."  {Looks  round 
cautiously.)  'Ere  goes.  'Arf  a  packet!  {Putting  powder 
in  saucepan.)  Blest  if  it  ain't  all  gone  in!  Maybe  it  will 
cure  'im  all  the  quicker.     {Stirs.) 

{Enter  Mrs.  Chance,  r.  drying  vase.) 

Mrs.  Chance.    So  you  ain't  gone  yet. 

David.  I  thought  as  'ow  the  gruel  was  goin'  to  boil  over  I 
{Stirring.) 

Mrs.  Chance.  There  's  not  many  men  so  thoughtful  as 
you,  Mr.  Wells.  Don 't  your  present  look  beautiful,  now  it  's 
clean.     {Puts  vase  on  chimney  piece.) 

David.  I  shall  be  more  of  a  match  for  it  by  supper  time. 
{Goes  to  door  r.  then  returns^.)     Mrs.  Chance! 

Mrs.  Chance.    Yes,  Mr.  Wells? 

David  {urith  some  nervousness) .  Supposin'  it  'ad  bin  a 
ring  I  'd  brought,  would  you  ha'  took  it? 

Mrs.  Chance  {slowly).  There's  Joey  to  be  thought  of, 
Mr.  Wells.     {Comes  c.) 

David.  'E's  earnin'  'is  own  money  now,  ain't  'e? 
Eighteen  shillin'  a  week  'e  gets,  don't  'e?  'E  could  live 
'ere  with  us  just  the  same.  I  'm  a  steady  chap  on  the  'ole, 
Sarah ! 


Material  for  Interpretation  255 

Mrs.  Chance  {thoughtfully  and  with  a  touch  of  emo- 
tion) .  Yes ;  you  Ve  been  steady  enough  all  the  time  you  've 
been  'ere. 

David.  Three  years  come  Christmas.  It  was  a  lucky 
day  for  me  when  I  saw  the  card  in  your  window,  ''Lodg- 
ings for  a  respectable  single  man. ' ' 

Mrs.  Chance  {turning  towards  him  half  shyly).  And 
I  think  it  was  a  lucky  day  for  me. 

David  {embracing  her).  Sarah!  {He  holds  her  away 
from  him  and  looks  at  her  laughingly.)  Church  or  Reg- 
istry ? 

Mrs.  Chance.  Church,  please,  David.  I  always  did 
hold  with  Church ;  it  's  more  stylish  like. 

David.    Then  to-morrow  three  weeks,  Sarah? 

Mrs.  Chance.  Well,  you  are  in  an  'urry!  But  I  don't 
mind. 

David.  Rahnd  I  goes  to  the  Vicarage  after  supper! 
Nah,  that  's  settled— Sarah !     {Tenderly.) 

Mrs.  Chance  {pushing  him  off  laughing).  You  go  away 
and  let  me  get  supper  ready.     {Bustles  about.) 

David  {returning).  So  that  I  '11  get  round  to  the  Vicar- 
age the  sooner. 

Mrs.  Chance.    Oh,  get  along  with  you. 

{Exit  David,  r.  Mrs.  Chance  bustles  about  singing  to 
herself;  stirs  the  contents  of  the  saucepan  and  is  laying 
the  table  when  Joey  returns  more  miserable  than  every  with 
his  cap  well  pulled  down  over  his  left  eye.  He  slouches 
over  to  the  fire  and  sits  staring  into  it.) 

Mrs.  Chance.    Back  again,  Joey. 

Joey.    Yus. 

Mrs.  Chance.    Supper  ^s  almost  ready. 

Joey.    Don't  want  no  supper. 

Mrs.  Chance.  I  do  'ope  it  ain't  the  inferlenza,  Joey. 
{Anxiously.) 


256  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Joey  {pulling  his  cap  down  mare  firmly).    No,  it  ain't. 

Mrs.  Chance.  I'm  cookin'  a  little  something  special  for 
you  in  that  there  saucepan;  you  just  give  it  a  stir  now  an' 
then  to  keep  it  from  burnin ',  while  I  puts  this  lettuce  under 
the  tap  to  fresh  it  up  a  bit.    {Exit  b.) 

Joey  {stirs  the  gruel  obediently,  then  seeing  he  is  alone 
takes  the  small  bottle  from  his  pocket  and  pours  the  con- 
tents in).  P'raps  it  won't  taste  so  filthy  in  sutthin'  else. 
'Melia  'Ammond,  be  mine,  and  give  Bert  Green  the  chuck ! 
— is  what  I  wish. 

{Enter  David  cleaned  and  tidied,  b.) 

David.    Sarah,  old  girl,  I've  just  thought 

Joey.  'Oo  are  you  callin'  Sarah!  If  it  's  my  mother, 
I  'd  'ave  you  to  know 

David.    Of  course  it  's  'er. 

Joey.    I  don't  see  as  there's  no  **in  course"  about  it. 

David.    Wy,  ain't  she  told  yer 

Joey.  No,  she  ain  't  told  me.  Wot  can  she  'ave  to  tell  me 
abaht  you? 

David.    Why,  that  she  an'  me  are  goin'  to  be  married. 

Joey  {utterly  amazed).    What!    An  old  woman  like  'er? 

David  {stoutly).  She  ain't  old!  She  's  goin'  to  be  my 
old  woman — ^but  she  ain't  old!  An'  she's  yer  mother  an' 
don't  you  fergit  it,  or  I  '11  come  the  'eavy  father  over 
yer,  my  lad. 

Joey.  Oh,  you  will,  will  yer?  An'  if  yer  marries  'er, 
w  'ere  am  I  to  bring  my  missus  w  'en  I  marries,  eh  ? 

David.  You're  too  young  to  marry  yet  awhile,  Joey;  I 
don't  approve  o'  these  young  marriages.  You  wait  till 
you  're  my  age,  my  lad. 

Joey  {squaring  up  to  him  fiercely).  An'  you  jolly  well 
keep  your  blooming  advice  till  you  're  asked  for  it. 

{Enter  Mbs.  Chance  with  the  lettuce  on  a  plate.  She 
looks  at  the  two  men  amazed,  hut  tactfully  takes  no  notice.) 


Material  for  Interpretation  257 

Mrs.  Chance.  'Ere  's  the  lettuce,  an'  now  we  can  all  sit 
down  nice  an'  comferble  to  supper.  Bless  me,  if  I  ain't 
forgot  the  beer! 

David  {taking  jug  from  dresser).  I  '11  go  round  and  get 
some. 

Mrs.  Chance  {aside).     'Ave  yer  told  'im? 

David  {aside).  Yus.  Don't  you  fret,  it  '11  be  all  right. 
{Aloud.)     Shan't  be  long,  Sarah.  {Exit  c.) 

Mrs.  Chance.  Quite  a  nice  birthday  party  for  yer,  Joey, 
if  you  was  n't  so  poorly. 

Joey  {his  arms  on  chimney  piece  and  head  hent).  Can't 
yer  leave  a  fellow  alone,  mother?  {Goes  rc.  slowly.) 

Mrs.  Chance  (l.  of  taUe).  Well,  well;  I  can  under- 
stand you  f eelin '  it  a  bit.  But  I  don 't  care  any  the  less  for 
yer,  Joey,  an '  don 't  yer  never  think  it.  ( Comes  to  him,  put- 
ting her  hands  on  his  shoulders.)  An'  some  day,  maybe 
you  '11  be  gettin'  married  to  some  nice  steady  respec'able 
girl,  an'  we  can  all  live  together  as  'appy  an'  comferble. 
{Removes  his  cap  and  touches  his  hair  tenderly.)  Wy, 
wotever  'ave  yer  been  doin';  not  fightin',  'ave  yer? 

Joey  {who  has  winced  at  her  touch  on  the  bruise).    Yus. 

Mrs.  Chance.    Not — not  with  David?     {Anxiously.) 

Joey.    Nah,  chap  in  the  street. 

Mrs.  Chance.  Wy?  What  'ad  'e  done?  You  didn't 
ought  to  be  so  suddent  like  as  you  are,  Joey.  {Gets  basin 
of  water  and  towel  from  dresser.) 

Joey  {gruffly).  'E  said  as  'ow  I  didn't  know  enough  to 
keep  'er.  An'  all  the  time  it  only  was  'e  'd  been  give  two 
gallery  passes  for  the  'Ippidrome. 

Mrs.  Chance.  'Oos  'er?  Not  that  feather  'eaded  'ussy, 
'Melia  'Ammond? 

Joey.  Now  don't  you  go  saying  nothin'  against  'Melia. 
One  o'  these  days  I  'm  goin'  to  marry  'er. 

Mrs.  Chance.    Sit  there  an'  keep  yer  'ead  still  w'ile  1 


258  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

bathes  it.  {Pushes  Joey  into  chadr,  rc.)  First  time  IVe 
heard  o'  you  gettin'  married. 

Joey.  Well,  it  won't  be  the  last.  I  'm — I'm  goin'  to 
marry  'Melia  if — if  I  dies  for  it.    So  there ! 

Mrs.  Chance.  Bless  the  boy!  Wy  can't  you  keep  yer 
'ead  still. 

Joey.  You  need  n  't  think  you  're  the  only  one  as  can  do 
things  on  the  quiet ! 

Mrs.  Chance.  There — there,  Joey,  don't  say  that!  I  'd 
as  it  were  not  known,  an '  yet  I  'ad  known  for  a  long  time 
— ^but  it  won't  make  no  difference  between  you  an'  me. 
That  I  promise. 

Joey  {completely  immersed  in  his  own  affairs) .  I  believe 
I  'd  take  poison  to  win  a  kind  glance  from  'Melia.  ( Glances 
at  hroth.) 

Mrs.  Chance.  Now  don't  you  go  talkin'  like  those  silly 
poitry  books.  An'  so  it  's  because  of  'Melia  you  'its  out  at 
this  chap  in  the  street.     'Oo  was  it  ? 

Joey.  Bert  Green,  what  'olds  the  Bantam  lightweight 
medal  of  the  Camberwell  Beauties. 

Mrs.  Chance  {admiringly).  Well,  you  are  a  good 
plucked  'un !  Not  that  I  'olds  with  fightin',  mind  yer,  Joey. 
An'  so  you  ups  an'  'its  'im? 

Joey.  Yus.  Leastways,  I  'its  at  'im.  But  'e  was  too 
suddent  like  f  er  me. 

Mrs.  Chance.  Pore  feller!  {Putting  hasin  on  side.) 
There,  you  '11  do  now.  You  shall  'ave  a  drop  of  gin  in  yer 
supper  to-night. 

Joey  {goes  to  fire  and  stirs  the  gruel).  I  dunno  as  I 
wants  it. 

{Enter  David  with  beer.    He  puts  the  jug  on  the  table.) 

Mrs.  Chance.  Oh,  yus  yer  do;  there's  nothin'  like  a 
drop  of  gin  w'en  yer  not  feelin'  quite  the  thing. 

David.    D  'you  think  'e  'd  better,  mother?    {Anxiously.) 


Material  for  Interpretation  259 

Not  if  'e  don't  want  it?  It  's  no  use  forcin'  the  pore  feller 
as  it  were. 

Mrs.  Chance  {cheerfully).  'E  don't  want  no  forcin'. 
Do  yer,  Joey  ?  You  just  'ave  a  little  drop  to  give  the  gruel 
a  taste. 

Joey  (shivering).  I — dunno — I — I  think  it  '11  do  very 
well  as  it  is.    Taste  and  all. 

Mrs.  Chance.  Oh,  nonsense;  you  ought  to  'ave  it  to 
sort  of  drink  our  'ealths.  Me  and  David  '11  drink  yours  in 
the  supper  beer.  (Pours  the  gruel  into  small  howl  and  sets 
it  on  table  r.)  You  '11  carve  the  pork,  David.  (Pours  gin 
into  gruel.)  Now  we  '11  all  sit  up  to  the  table  and  be  the 
'appiest  and  joUiest  little  party  in  Camberwell.  (They  sit 
at  table:  Mrs.  Chance  c,  David  l.,  Joey  r.) 

David.  'Ave  a  slice  of  pork,  Joey?  It  looks  first  rate. 
(Carving.) 

Joey  (who  has  tasted  the  gruel  cautiously  hut  unth  deter- 
mination). No;  I  think — I — I  don't  want  anything  else. 
I  '11  sit  by  the  fire  and  drink  this.  (Sits  l.,  drinking  the 
gruel  with  every  appearance  of  heroic  determination  and 
distaste.) 

Mrs.  Chance.  Sorry  you  feel  so  porely,  Joey.  Well,  you 
'ave  given  me  a  large  'elpin',  Mr.  Wells. 

David.    David ! 

Mrs.  Chance  (coquettishly) .    David! 

David  (gallantly).    I  'elps  yer,  as  I  loves  yer— Sarah! 

Mrs.  Chance.  Well,  I  never  knew  such  a  feller  as  you 
are  for  sayin'  things.  My  old  old  man  never  did.  (Helps 
him  to  salad.) 

David.  'Ere,  whoa !  'Old  on  a  bit ;  don't  you  givin'  me 
all  the  garden  stuff.  Wot  do  you  say  to  goin'  to  the  Empire 
or  the  Palace  this  evenin'? 

Mrs.  Chance.     Oh,  David;  that  would  be  nice  I 


?60  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

David.     Stalls,  second  'ouse. 

Mrs,  Chance  (firmly).  No,  David,  no  extravagance. 
Upper  circle,  first  'ouse.  Oh,  it  will  be  nice;  I  do  like  a 
music  'all.  I  thinks  it  's  just  like  'eaven,  an'  with  you 
there,  too ! 

David.  If  we  goes  to-night,  we  goes  to  stalls.  I  want  to 
show  the  fellers  what  bloomin'  fatheads  they  were  to  leave 
a  jolly  little  woman  like  you  a  widow  for  so  long. 

Mrs.  Chance.  I  couldn't  ha'  married  befor',  because 
of  Joey;  but  now  'e  's  grown  up,  an'  it  's  different.  Oh, 
David,  I  am  glad  you  came  to  stay  'ere  as  a  respec'able 
single  man!     (Cries  a  little.) 

David.  There,  there!  There's  nothin'  to  cry  about,  you 
silly.  'Ere,  'ave  a  drop  of  beer.  (Pouring  out  heer.)  We  '11 
all  drink  your  'ealth.  'Ere,  Joey!  (Going  to  him  with 
glass.)  Drink  our  good  'ealth;  an'  when  your  time  comes, 
we  '11  do  the  same  by  you. 

(Joey,  who  has  sunk  irdo  a  state  of  unconsciousness y  nat- 
urally returns  no  answer.) 

Mrs.  Chance.  Wy  don't  you  answer,  Joey?  Yer  not 
sulking,  are  yej*  ? 

David  (standing  behind  and  a  little  above  Joey).  I — I 
think  he  's  asleep — Mother.     (Nervously.) 

Mrs.  Chance.  Asleep!  Wake  up,  Joey,  and  drink  our 
'ealths.     (Shirking  him.) 

David  (nervously).  W'at — ^w'at  's  come  to  'im,  do  you 
think? 

Mrs.  Chance.  Blest  if  I  know !  Joey — Joey —  What  's 
wrong  with  you  ? 

(Joey  rolls  on  to  the  floor.) 

David.  P  'raps  'e  's  'ad  a  drop  too  much.  You  did  give 
'im  a  good  drop  of  gin  for  'is  cold. 

Mrs.  Chance.    W'y  'is  'ead  's  stronger  than  that,  pore 


Material  for  Interpretation  261 

lamb.  'Ere,  let 's  loose 'is  neck  cloth.  Joey — Joey —  Don't 
you  'ear  me?  (Pause.  Then  with  a  sudden  inspiration 
picks  up  the  howl  and  tastes  the  contents.)  Ugh !  Run  for 
the  doctor!     'E  's  poisoned!    My  Joey  's  poisoned! 

David  {staggering  hack  against  the  taUe).  What!  I 
never  meant  no  'arm!  That  I  didn't!  They  're  guaran- 
teed 'armless! 

Mrs.  Chance.  Oh,  Joey ;  my  pore  Joey !  You  've  piz- 
ened  'im.  You  'ave,  I  can  see  it  in  your  fice.  'Ow  did  yer 
doit?    {Kneeling  li.) 

David  {kneeling  r.  of  Joey).    'Is  'eart  's  all  right! 

Mrs.  Chance.  You  get  away !  'Ow  did  you  do  it,  you — 
you — oh !  An'  I  thought  you  so  respectable !  'Ow  did  yer 
do  it? 

David  {repeats  miserably).  They  was  guaranteed  'arm- 
less. 

Mrs.  Chance  {angrily) .  'Ow,  don't  keep  on  sayin'  that  I 
Wot  was? 

David.  Professor  Swornorff's  unrivalled  Drink  Cure. 
'Ere  's  another  packet,  yer  can  see  for  yerself.  Sarah,  I 
knoo  'ow  worritted  yer  was  sometimes  because  'e  seemed  to 
'ave  a  bit  of  a  likin'  for  a  drop,  an' — an'  by  accident  I  give 
'im  an  'ole  packet  in  'is  gruel  instead  of  'alf.    That  's  all. 

Mrs.  Chance.  If  my  Joey  dies,  I  '11  never  speak  to  you 
again  as  long  as  I  live. 

David.  'E  ain't  dead,  not  'im.  Look,  'is  colour  's  comin* 
back. 

Joey  (groaning  and  sitting  up  very  dazed) .     'Melia ! 

Mrs.  Chance  (clasping  him  in  her  arms) .  My  boy !  My 
boy! 

Joey  (embracing  her  fervently),  'Melia!  Then  the 
spell  's  worked !     Oh,  'Melia ! 

Mrs.  Chance.    Oh,  'e  's  raving! 


262  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

David.  That  ain't  'Melia,  it  's  your  mother  you  've  got 
'old  of.    Stop  it! 

Joey.     'Melia!     (Listening.) 

(Loud  rap  at  door  c.) 

Joey.  That  's  'Melia !  The  potion  's  brought  'er  'ere ! 
Let  'er  in.     (Rises.) 

Mrs.  Chance  (almost  sobbing).  'E  's  gone  dotty!  Joey 
dear,  that  ain't  'Melia;  it  's  just  yer  ain't  feelin'  quite 
right  in  yer  'ead. 

Davtd  (awestruck) .    There  is  someone  there. 

(Bap  repeated,  and  almost  without  a  pause  'Melia  'Am- 
MOND,  a  smart  handsome  girl  in  a  furious  temper,  bounces 
in.) 

'Melia.  Well,  Mrs.  Chance,  I  do  think  as  w'en  a  lidy 
comes  to  see  another  lidy,  as  the  fust  lidy  might  do  'er  the 
favour  of  tiking  a  little  notice  on  'er. 

Mrs.  Chance.    Joey  ain't  very  well,  an' 

'Melia  (continuing). — ^but  it  's  only  w'at  I  should  ex- 
pect of  the  mother  of  that.  (Contemptuously.) 

Joey.     .'Melia,  you  'ave  come. 

'Melia.    Shut  yer  silly  fice  till  I  've  done  talkin'. 

Mrs.  Chance.  Out  o '  my  'ouse,  you  'og !  Call  yorself  a 
lidy,  you  owdacious 

'Melia.  Oh,  I  'm  goin'  fast  enough,  Mrs.  Chance,  when 
I  've  said  what  I  wants  to  say  to  Mr.  Joey  Chance  there. 

Joey  (feebly).     'Melia! 

'Melia.  Miss  'Ammond  if  you  please;  and  I  '11  thank 
you  not  to  speak  to  me  in  future.  I  '11  tike  it  as  a  per- 
sonal insult  if  yer  does.  Yer  miserable  little  presumin' 
worm. 

David.  'Old  'ard  now,  Miss  'Ammond !  Wot  's  the 
good  of  callin'  names. 

'Melia  (with  great  contempt).    This  ain't  no  concern  of 


Material  for  Interpretation  268 

yours,  and  I  '11  thank  you  not  to  open  your  mouth  in  case 
yer  puts  yer  foot  in  it. 

Mrs.  Chance.  Now  look  'ere,  Miss  'Ammond,  this  is  my 
'ouse  and 

'Melia.  An'  you  look  'ere,  Mrs.  Chance,  I  '11  say  wat  I 
came  to  say,  if  I  stops  'ere  a  week.  {To  Joey.)  Wot  call 
'ad  you  to  go  'itting  of  my  bloke  ? 

Joey  {apologetically).  'Melia!  I — Oh,  lor,  my  'ead! 
(Rocking.) 

'Melia.    Keep  still — ^yer  gives  me  the  fidgets! 

Joey.    Yes,  'Melia!     {Sits  on  arm  of  chair,  lc.) 

'Melia.  It  was  a  piece  of  imperence,  that  's  wat  it  wos  I 
Blooming  imperence,  and  don't  you  dare  to  speak  to  me 
again,  so  there.  A  little  miserable  shrimp  like  you  to  go  a 
'ittin'  of  the  Bantam  Lightweight  Medal  'older  of  the 
Camberwell  Beauties !    Yah ! 

David.    You  must  say  as  it  was  plucky.  Miss  'Ammond. 

'Melia.  Plucky!  Just  foolishness  and  conceit — and  I 
don 't  'old  with  such !  I  've  done  with  'im.  {Jerking  her 
head  at  Joey.) 

Joey  {pulling  himself  together).  An'— an'  I  'm  done 
with  you,  'Melia  'Ammond.  Keep  wot  I  've  gived  yer 
towards  yer  feather  club,  an'  go  out  with  yer  Bantam  if  yer 
likes.  As  for  me,  I  '11  smash  up  that  old  Professor 
Swornorff 

David.    Swornorff!    I  '11  help  yer. 

Joey.  —An'  'is  'ole  bag  of  tricks,  if  I  does  a  six  months' 
stretch  for  it !  'Ere  'ave  I  'arf  poisoned  myself  with  this 
'ere  blooming  love  charm.     {Holding  up  bottle.) 

David.    Eh? 

Mrs.  Chance.    Joey?    {Simultaneously  with  David.) 

Joey.    —Wot  was  to  make  you  care  for  me,  'Melia. 


264  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

'MJELiA  {with  a  touch  of  remorse).  I  always  knew  you 
was  soft,  Joey. 

Joey.    I  ain't  soft  no  longer.    I  'm  as  'ard  as  you  are. 

Mrs.  Chance.  An'  now  per'aps  you  '11  go,  Miss  'Am- 
mond.  {Opens  door.)  'Aving  got  wot  you  corned  to  say 
off  your  chest. 

'Melia.    Yes,  I  'm  goin'. 

Joey.  An'  I  'opes  yer  '11  enjoy  the  'Ippidrome.  {With 
repressed  emotion.) 

'Melia.    I  'opes  so,  Mr.  Chance. 

Joey.  An '  w  'en  I  'm  in  quod  for  smashin '  up  Swornorff 
and  'is  stall,  I  'opes  you  '11  enjoy  the  thoughts  of  that.  It 
might  even  come  to  murder.  {Hitching  his  collar  suggest- 
ively.) 

'Melia  {turning  hack) .  Oh,  Joey,  no !    No,  yer  would  n't. 

Oh,  Joey,  not  that — please  Joey. 

Joey.    You  've  made  me  'ard,  and  'ard  I  stays ! 

'Melia.  But  not  murder !  I  did  n't  think  it  of  you,  Joey. 
Oh,  yer  can 't.  Oh,  Joey ;  I  'd  never  forgive  myself  if  you 
went  and  got  stretched  for  a  measley  foreigner !  Oh !  Oh ! 
{Flings  her  arms  round  him.) 

Joey  {embracing  her).  'Melia!  Cheer  up!  Yer  goin' 
to  stick  to  me  ? 

'Melia.    Yus,  Joey.     {Sobbing.) 

David.     Seems  as  if  there  might  be  some  good  in  that 

there  potion  arter  all  1 

Bertha  N.  Graham, 


Material  for  Interpretation  ^65 

-•THE  PHILOSOPHER  OP  BUTTERBIGGENS*'* 

(Characters) 
David  Pirnib 
Lizzie,  his  daughter. 
John  Bell,  his  son-in-law. 
Alexander,  John^s  little  son. 

John  Bell  's  tenement  at  Butterhiggens  *  consists  of  the 
very  usual  ''two  rooms,  kitchen  and  hath/^  a  corir- 
cealed  hed  in  the  parlour  and  another  in  the  kitchen, 
enabling  him  to  house  his  fa/mily — consisting  of  him- 
self, his  wife,  his  little  son,  and  his  aged  father-in-law 
— therein.  The  kitchen  and  living  room  is  a  good-sized 
sjquare  room.  The  right  wall  {our  right  as  we  look  at 
it)  is  occupied  by  a  huge  built-in  dresser,  sink,  and 
coal  bunker;  the  left  wall  by  a  high-mantled,  ovened 
a*nd  b  oiler ed  fireplace,  the  recess- on  either  side  of  which 
coin/tains  Ow  low  painted  cupboard.  Over  the  far  cup- 
hotard  hamgs  a  picture,  of  a  ship,  but  over  the  near  one 
is  a  small  square  window.  The  far  wall  has  two  large 
doors  in  it,  that  on  the  right  leading  to  the  lobby,  and 
thoft  on  the  left  appertaining  to  the  old  father-in-law *s 
concealed  bed. 

The  walls  are  distempered  ^  a  brickish  red.  The  ceil- 
ing once  uxis  white.  The  floor  is  covered  with  bright 
linoleum  and  a  couple  of  rag  rugs— one  before  the  fire 

**'The  Philosopher  of  Butterhiggens"  is  fully  protected  by  copy- 
right, and  all  rights  are  reserved. 

Permission  to  act,  read  publicly,  or  make  any  use  of  it  must  be 
obtained  from  Samuel  French,  28-30  West  38th  Street,  New  York, 
N.  Y. 

*  Distempered — calcimined. 

*  Butterbiggens  is  a  suburb  of  Glasgow. 


266  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 


la/rge  one — and  one  smaller  one  before  the  door  of 
the  concealed  bed. 

A  deal  table  is  just  to  b.  of  center,  a  long  flexible 
gas  bracket  depending  from  the  ceiling  above  it.  An- 
other many -jointed  gas-bracket  projects  from  the  mid- 
dle of  the  high  mantle-piece,  its  flame  turned  down 
towards  the  stove.  Th^re  are  wooden  chairs  at  the 
table,  above,  below,  and  to  l.  of  it — the  latter  chair  be- 
ing in  the  centre.  A  high-backedf  easy-chair  is  above 
the  fire,  a  kitchen  elbow  chair  below  it. 

The  kitchen  is  very  tidy.  A  newspaper  newly  fallen 
to  the  rug  before  the  fire  and  another — an  evening  one 
— spread  fiat  on  the  table  are  {besides  a  child's  mug 
and  plate  also  on  the  table)  the  only  things  not  stowed 
in  their  prescribed  places.  It  is  evening — the  light  be- 
yond the  little  square  window  being  the  grey  dvmnesi 
of  a  long  Northern  twilight  which  slowly  deepens  dur- 
ing the  play.  When  the  curtain  rises  it  is  still  light 
enough  in  the  room  for  a  man  to  read  if  the  print  be 
not  too  faint  and  his  eyes  be  good.  The  warm  light  of 
the  fire  leaps  and  flickers  through  the  grey,  showing 
up  with  exceptional  clearness  the  deep-lined  face  of  old 
David  Pirnie,  who  is  discovered  half-risen  from  his 
arm-chair  ahove  the  fire,  standing  on  the  hearth-rug, 
his  body  bent  and  his  hand  on  the  chair  arm.  He  is  a 
little  feeble  old  man  with  a  well-shaped  head  and 
weather-beaten  face  set  off  by  a  grizzled  beard  and 
whiskers  wiry  and  vigorous  in  curious  contrast  to  the 
wreath  of  snoury  hair  that  encircles  his  head.  His 
upper  lip  is  shaven.  He  wears  an  old  suit — the  waist- 
coat of  which  being  unbuttoned  shows  an  old  flannel 
shirt.  His  slippers  are  low  at  the  heel  and  his  socks 
loose  at  the  ankles. 


Material  for  Interpretation  267 

The  old  mavr's  eyes  are  fixed  appealingly  on  those 
of  his  daughter,  who  stands  in  the  half -open  door,  her 
grasp  oni  the  handle,  meeting  his  look  squarely — a 
straight -h rowed,  hlack-haired,  determined  young  wo- 
man of  six  or  seven  and  twenty.  Her  husband,  John, 
seated  at  the  table  in  his  shirt -sleeves,  with  his  head  in 
his  hands,  reads  hard  at  the  paper  and  tries  to  look 
unconcerned. 

David.    Aw — ^but  Lizzie! 

Lizzie  (with  splendid  firmness).  It  's  nae  use,  Feyther. 
I  'm  no  gaein'  to  gie  in  to  the  wean.^  Ye  've  been  tellin* 
yer  stories  to  him  nicht  after  nicht  for  dear  knows  how  long 
and  he  's  gettin'  to  expect  them. 

David.    Why  should  he  no '  expect  them  ? 

Lizzie.  It  dis  na  do  for  weans  to  count  on  things  so. 
He  's  layin'  up  a  sad  disappointment  for  himself  yin  o' 
these  days. 

David.  He 's  gettin  *  a  sad  disappointment  the  no  \  Och, 
come  on,  Lizzie!  I  'm  no'  gaein'  to  die  just  yet  an'  ye 
can  break  him  off  gradually  when  I  begin  to  look  like  to. 

Lizzie.    Wha's  talkin'  of  yer  diein',  Feyther? 

David.  Ye  were  speakin'  o'  the  disappointment  he  was 
layin'  up  for  himself  if  he  got  to  count  on  me. 

Lizzie.  I  wasna  thinkin'  o'  yer  diein',  Feyther — only 
— it  's  no  guid  for  a  bairn 

David.  "Where's  the  harm  in  my  giein'  him  a  bit  story 
before  he  gangs  tae  his  bed  ? 

Lizzie.  I  'm  no '  sayin  there  's  ony  harm  in  it  this  yinst  * 
Feyther;  but  it  's  no  richt  to  gae  on  nicht  after  nicht  wi' 
never  a  break 

*Wean  or  bairn,  small  child. 
*  Yinst  =  once. 


268  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

David.    Whit  wey  is  it  no  richt  if  ther  's  nae  harm  in  itt 

Lizzie.     It  's  giein'  in  to  the  wean. 

David.  Whit  wey  should  ye  no'  gie  in  to  him  if  there  's 
nae  harm  in  it? 

Lizzie  {keeping  her  patience  with  difficulty) .  Because  it 
gets  him  into  the  habit. 

David.  But  why  should  he  no'  get  into  the  habit  if 
there  's  no  harm  in  it  ? 

(John,  at  the  table,  chuckles.  Lizzie  gives  him  a  look, 
hut  he  meets  it  not.) 

Lizzie.  Really,  Feyther,  ye  micht  be  a  wean  yerself 
ye  're  that  persistent. 

David.  No,  Lizzie,  I  'm  no'  persistent.  I  'm  reasonin' 
wi '  ye.  Ye  said  there  was  nae  harm  in  my  tellin '  him  a  wee 
bit  story  an '  now  ye  say  I  'm  not  to  because  it  '11  get  him 
into  the  habit,  an'  what  I  'm  asking  ye  is  where  's  the 
harm  o'  his  gettin'  into  the  habit  if  there  's  nae  harm 
in  it? 

Lizzie.  Oh,  aye;  ye  can  be  gay  clever,  twisting  the 
words  in  my  mouth,  Feyther;  but  richt  's  richt,  and 
wrang  's  wrang  for  a '  yer  cleverness. 

David  (earnestly).  I  'm  no'  bein'  clever  ava,*  Lizzie — 
no'  the  noo — I  'm  just  trying  to  make  ye  see  that  if  ye 
admit  there  ^s  nae  harm  in  a  thing  ye  canna  say  there  's 
ony  harm  in  it  an'  (pathetically) — I  'm  wantin'  to  tell  wee 
Alexander  a  bit  story  before  he  gangs  to  his  bed. 

John  (aside  to  her).    Och,  wumman 

Lizzie.  T  'ts,  John,  ye  'd  gie  in  tae  onybody  if  they  were 
just  persistent  enough. 

John.    He  's  an  auld  man. 

Lizzie  (really  exasperated) .  I  ken  fine  he  's  an  auld  man, 
John,  and  ye  're  a  young  yin,  an'  Alexander  's  gaein'  to  be 

*Ava  =  at  all. 


Material  for  Interpretation  269 

anither,  an'  I  'm  a  lone  wumman  among  the  lot  o'  ye.    But 
I  'm  no'  gaein'  to  gie  in  to 

John  {bringing  a  fresh  mind  to  hear  upon  the  argiu- 
ment).    Efter  a',  Lizzie,  there  's  nae  harm 

Lizzie  {almost  with  a  scream  of  anger).  Och!  Now 
you've  stairted,  have  you?  Harm!  Harm!  Harm! 
You  're  talkin'  about  harm  and  I  'm- talking  about  richt 
and  wrang.  You  'd  see  your  son  grow  up  a  drunken  keelie 
an'  mebbe  a  thief  an'  a  murderer  so  long  as  you  could  say 
there  was  nae  harm  in  it. 

David  {expostulating  with  some  cause).  But  I  cudna 
say  there  was  nae  harm  in  that,  Lizzie,  an'  I  wudna.  Only 
when  there  's  nae  harm 

Lizzie.    Och!!     {Exits  off  to  the  cause  of  the  trouble) 
Are  ye  in  yer  bed  yet,  Alexander?     {Shuts  door  with  a 
click.) 

David.  {Standing  on  hearthrug  and , shaking  his  head 
more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger).  She  's  no'  reasonable,  ye 
ken,.  John,  she  disna  argue  fair.  I  'm  no'  complainin  o'  her 
mither,  but  it  's  a  wee  bit  thing  hard  that  the  only  twa 
women  I  've  known  to  be  really  chatty  an'  argumentative 
with  should  have  been  just  like  that.  An'  me  that  fond  o* 
women's  society.     {He  lowers  himself  into  his  chair.) 

John.    They  're  all  like  it. 

David  {judicially) .  I  wudna  go  sae  far  as  to  say  that, 
John.  Ye  see  I  've  only  kent  they  twa  to  study  carefully 
— an  it  's  no  fair  to  judge  the  whole  sex  by  just  the  twa  ex- 
amples an'  it  were — {running  on)  but  it  's  gey  hard  an' 
I  was  wantin'  to  tell  wee  Alexander  a  special  fine  story  the 
nicht.     {Removes  glasses  and  blinks  his  eyes.)    Aweel!! 

John  {cmnforting) .    Mebbe  the  morn 

David.  If  it 's  no'  richt  the  nicht  it  '11  be  no'  richt  the 
mom's  nicht. 


270  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

John.  Ye  canna  say  that,  Feyther.  It  wasna  wrang 
last  nicht. 

David  (bitterly),  Mebbe  it  was  an'  Lizzie  had  no'  found 
it  out. 

John.    Ah,  noo,  Feyther,  dinna  get  saurcastic. 

David  {between  anger  and  tears,  weakly).  I  canna  help 
it.  I  'm  black  affronted.  I  was  wantin'  to  tell  wee  Alex- 
ander a  special  fine  story  the  nicht  an'  now  here  's  Lizzie 
wi '  her  richt  's  richt  an '  wrang  's  wrang.  Och !  There  'ff 
no  reason  in  the  women. 

John.    We  has  to  gie  in  to  them,  though. 

David.    Aye.    That  's  why. 

(There  is  a  pause.  The  old  man  picks  up  his  paper 
again  and  settles  his  glasses  on  his  nose.  John  rises 
and  with  a  spill  from  the  mantelpiece  lights  the  gas 
there,  which  he  then  bends  to  throw  the  light  to  the  old 
man's  advantage.) 

David.    Thank  ye,  John.    Do  ye  hear  him  ? 

John  (erect  on  hearth  rug).    Who?  • 

David.    Wee  Alexander. 

John.    No. 

David.    Greetin'  his  heart  out. 

John.     Och,  he  's  no'  greetin'.     Lizzie  's  wi'  him. 

David.  I  ken  fine  Lizzie's  wi'  him,  but  he  's  greetin'  for 
a'  her.  He  was  wantin'  to  hear  yon  story  o'  the  kelpies  up 
to  Cross  Hill  wi'  the  tram (breaking  his  mood  impa- 
tiently).   Och! 

John  (crossing  to  table  and  lighting  up  there).  It  's 
gettin'  dark  gey  early.  We  '11  shin  be  haein'  tea  by  the 
gas. 

David  (rustling  his  paper).  Aye.  (Suddenly.)  There 
never  was  a  female  philosopher,  ye  ken,  John. 

John.    Was  there  no? 


Material  for  Interpretation  271 

David.  No.  {Angrily  in  a  gu^.)  An'  there  never  will 
be!  {Then  more  calmly,)  An'  yet  there  's  an  awful  lot 
of  philosophy  about  women,  John. 

John.    Aye  ? 

David.  0  aye.  They  're  that  unreasonable,  an'  yet  ye 
canna  reason  them  down,  an'  they  're  that  weak  an'  yet 
ye  canna  make  them  gie  in  to  ye.  Of  course  ye  '11  say  ye 
canna  reason  doon  a  stane  or  make  a  clod  o'  earth  gie  in 
tae  ye. 

John.    Willi? 

David.  Aye.  An'  ye '11  be  richt.  But  then  I  '11  tell  ye 
a  stane  will  na  answer  ye  back,  an'  a  clod  o'  earth  will  na 
try  to  withstand  ye,  so  how  can  ye  argue  them  down? 

John  {con^jinced) .    Ye  canna. 

David.  Richt.  Ye  canna.  But  a  wumman  will  answer 
ye  back,  an'  she  will  stand  against  ye,  an'  yet  ye  canna 
argue  her  down  though  ye  have  strength  an '  reason  on  your 
side  an  she  's  talkin'  naething  but  blether  about  richt  's 
richt  and  wrang  's  wrang  an'  sendin'  a  poor  bairn  off  t' 
his  bed  i'  the  yin  room  an'  leavin'  her  auld  feyther  all  alone 

by  the  fire  in  anither  an' — ye  ken Philosophy 

{He  ceases  to  speak  and  wipes  his  glasses  again.) 

(John,  intensely  troubled ,  tiptoes  up  to  the  door  and 
opens  it  a  foot.  The  woaIs  of  Alexander  can  he  heard, 
muffled  hy  a  further  door.    John  calls  off.) 

John.    Lizzie. 

(Lizzie  immediately  comes  into  sight  outside  the  door 
with  a  *^shsh.'^) 

John.    Yer  feyther  's  greetin'. 

Lizzie  {with  a  touch  of  exasperation) .  Och,  I  'm  no 
heedin'.  There  's  anither  wean  in  there  greetin'  too,  an' 
I  'm  no  heedin'  him  neither,  an'  he  's  greetin'  twicet  as 
loud  as  the^auld  yin. 


272  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

John  (shacked).    Ye  're  heartless,  wumman. 

Lizzie  (with  patience).  No.  I  'm  no  heartless,  John, 
but  there  's  too  much  heart  in  this  family  an'  someone  's 
got  to  use  their  held. 

(David  cranes  round  the  side  of  his  chair  to  catch  what 
they  are  saying.  She  stops  and  comes  to  him  kindly, 
hut  with  womanly  firmness.) 

Lizzie.  I  'm  vexed  ye  should  be  disappointed,  Feyther, 
but  ye  see,  don't  ye 

(A  singularly  piercing  wail  from  Alexander  goes  up. 
Lizzie  riches  to  silence  him.) 

Lizzie.  Mercy !  The  neighbours  will  think  we  're  mur- 
derin'  him.     (The  door  closes  behind  her.) 

David  (nodding  for  a  space  as  he  revolves  the  woman* s 
attitude).    Ye  hear  that,  John? 

John.    Whit? 

David  (with  quiet  iron/y).  She  's  vexed  I  should  be  dis- 
appointed. The  wumman  thinks  she  's  richt !  Wummen 
always  think  they  're  richt — mebbe  it  's  that  makes  them 
that  obstinate. —  (With  a  ghost  of  a  twinkle.)  She  's  feart 
o'  the  neighbours,  though. 

John  (stolidly).    Ah,  women  are  feart  o'  the  neighbours. 

David  (reverting).  Puir,  wee  mon.  I  telt  ye  he  was 
greetin',  John.  He  's  disappointed  fine.  (Pondering.) 
D  'ye  ken  what  I  'm  thinkin',  John? 

John.    Whit  ? 

David.  I  'm  thinkin'  he  's  too  young  to  get  his  ain  wey 
an'  I  'm  too  auld  an'  it  's  a  fine  thocht. 

John.    Aye  ? 

David.  Aye.  I  never  thocht  of  it  before,  but  that  's 
what  it  is.  He  's  no'  come  to  it  yet,  an'  I  'm  past  it.  (Sud- 
denly.)    What  's  the  most  important  thing  in  life,  John? 

(John  opens  his  mouth  and  shuts  it  again,  unused.) 


Material  for  Interpretation  273 

David.  Ye  ken  perfectly  well.  What  is  it  ye  're  wantin' 
a'  the  timer' 

John.    Different  things. 

Bayid  (satisfied).  Aye — different  things!  But  ye  want 
them  a',  do  ye  no'? 

John    Aye. 

David.    If  ye  had  yer  ain  wey  ye  'd  hae  them,  eh  ? 

John.    I  wud  that. 

David  {trivrnphant) .  Then  is  that  no'  what  ye  want? 
Yer  ain  wey? 

John  (enlightened).   Losh! 

David  (warming  to  it).  That  's  what  life  is,  John — 
gettin'  yer  ain  wey.  First  ye  're  bom  an'  ye  canna  dae 
anything  but  cry,  but  God  's  given  yer  mither  ears  an'  ye 
get  yer  wey  by  juist  cry  in'  for  it — (hastily  anticipating 
criticism)  I  ken  that  's  no'  exactly  in  keepin'  wi  what  I  've 
been  sayin'  aboot  Alexander — ^but  a  new-born  baimie  's 
an  awf u '  delicate  thing  an '  the  Lord  gets  it  past  its  infancy 
by  a  dispensation  o'  Providence  very  unsettling  to  our 
poor  human  understandings.  Ye  '11  notice  the  weans  cease 
getting  their  wey  by  juist  greetin '  for  it  as  shin  as  they  're 
auld  enough  to  seek  it  otherwise. 

John.    The  habit  hangs  onto  them,  whiles. 

David.  It  does  that — (mth  a  twinkle).  An,  mebbe  if 
God  's  given  yer  neighbours  ears  an '  yer  live  close  ye  '11  get 
yer  wey  by  a  dispensation  o'  Providence  a  while  longer. 
But  there  's  things  yer  '11  hae  to  do  for  yourself  gin  ye 
want  to — an'  ye  will — ye  '11  want  to  hold  out  yer  hand, 
an'  yer  will  hold  out  yer  hand,  an'  ye  '11  want  to  stand 
up  an'  walk  an'  ye  will  stand  up  an'  walk,  an'  ye  '11  want 
to  dae  as  ye  please  an'  ye  will  dae  as  ye  please,  an'  then 
ye  are  practised  an'  learnt  in  the  art  of  gettin'  yer  ain 
wey — an'  ye  're  a  man! 


274  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

John.    Man,  Feyther,  ye  're  wonderful ! 

David  (complacently).  I  'm  a  philosopher,  John.  But 
it  goes  on  mebbe. 

John.    Aye  ? 

David.  Aye.  Mebbe  ye  think  ye  'd  like  to  make  ither 
folk  mind  ye  an'  yer  wey  an'  ye  try,  an'  if  it  comes  off 
ye  're  a  big  man  an'  mebbe  the  master  o'  a  vessel  wi'  three 
men  and  a  boy  under  ye  as  I  was,  John.  {Dropping  into 
the  minor.)     An'  then  ye  come  down  the  hill. 

John  (apprehensively) .    Doon  the  hill? 

David.  Aye — down  to  mebbe  wantin'  to  tell  a  wean  a 
bit  story  before  he  gangs  tae  his  bed,  an'  ye  canna  dae  even 
that.  An'  then  a  while  more  an'  ye  want  to  get  to  yer 
feet  an'  ye  canna,  an'  a  while  more  an'  ye  want  to  lift  up 
yer  hand  an'  ye  canna — an'  in  a  while  more  ye  're  just 
forgotten  an'  done  wi'. 

John.     Aw,  Feyther! 

David.  Dinna  look  sae  troubled,  John.  I  'm  no  afraid 
to  die  when  my  time  comes.  It  's  these  hints  that  I  'm  done 
wi'  before  I  'm  dead  that  I  dinna  like. 

John.     What'n  hints? 

David.  Well — Lizzie  an'  her  richt's  richt  an'  wrang  's 
wrang  when  I  think  o'  telling  wee  Alexander  a  wee  bit 
story  before  he  gangs  tae  his  bed. 

John  (gently).    Ye  are  a  wee  thing  persistent,  Feyther. 

David.  No,  I  'm  no  persistent,  John.  I  've  gied  in. 
I  'm  a  philosopher,  John,  an'  a  philosopher  kens  when  he  's 
done  wi. 

John.     Aw,  Feyther! 

David  (getting  lower  and  lower).  It  's  gey  interesting, 
philosophy,  John,  an'  the  only  philosophy  worth  thinkin' 
about  is  the  philosophy  of  growin'  auld — ^because  that  's 
what   we  're  a'   doing,   all  living  things.     There  's  nae 


Material  for  Interpretation  275 

philosophy  in  a  stane,  John ;  he  's  juist  a  stane  an '  in  a 
hundred  years  he  '11  be  juist  a  stane  still — unless  he  's 
broken  up,  an'  then  he  '11  be  juist  not  a  stane  but  he  '11  no 
ken  what  's  happened  to  him  because  he  did  no  break  up 
gradual  an'  first  lose  his  boat  an'  then  his  hoose  an'  then 
hae  his  wee  grandson  taken  away  when  he  was  for  tellin* 
him  a  bit  story  before  he  gangs  tae  his  bed. — It  's  yon 
losing  yer  grip  bit  by  bit  an'  kennin'  that  ye  're  losing  it 
that  makes  a  philosopher,  John. 

John.  If  I  kennt  what  ye  meant  by  philosophy,  Feyther, 
I  'd  better  able  to  follow  ye. 

(Lizzie  enters  quietly  and  closes  door  after  her.) 

John  (turning  to  Lizzie).    Is  he  asleep? 

Lizzie.  No,  he  's  no  asleep,  but  I  've  shut  both  doors, 
an'  the  neighbours  canna  hear  him. 

John.     Aw,  Lizzie 


Lizzie  (sharply).    John 

David.  Whit  was  I  tellin'  ye,  John,  about  weans  gettin* 
their  ain  wey  if  the  neighbours  had  ears  an'  they  lived 
close.    Was  I  no'  richt? 

Lizzie  (answering  for  John,  with  some  acerbity).  Aye, 
ye  were  richt,  Feyther,  nae  doot,  but  we  dinna  live  that 
close  here,  an'  the  neighbours  canna  hear  him  at  the  back 
o'  the  hoose. 

David.  Mebbe  that  's  why  ye  changed  Alexander  into 
the  parlor  an'  gied  me  the  bed  in  here  when  it  began  to 
get  cauld. 

Lizzie  (hurt).  Aw,  no,  Feyther,  I  brought  ye  in  here 
to  be  warmer — 

David  (placably).  I  believe  ye,  wumman — (with  a  faint 
twinkle  again)  but  it  's  turned  oot  luckily,  has  it  no'? 

(David  waits  for  a  reply,  but  gets  none.  Lizzie  fetches 
needle  work  from  dresser  drawer  and  sits  above  table. 


276  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

David's  face  and  voice  take  on  a  more  thoughtful 
tone.) 

David  (musing).  Puir  wee  man.  If  he  was  in  here 
you  'd  no'  be  letting  him  greet  his  heart  oot  where  onybody 
could  hear  him.    Wud  ye? 

Lizzie  (calmly),    Mebbe  I  'd  no\ 

John.    Ye  ken  fine  ye  'd  no',  wumman. 

Lizzie.  John,  thread  my  needle,  an  dinna  take  Feyther's 
part  against  me. 

John  (surprised).    I  'm  no* 

Lizzie.  No,  I  ken  you  're  no'  meaning  to,  but  you  men 
are  that  thrang^ 

(She  is  interrupted  hy  a  loud  squall  from  David,  which 
he  maintains,  eyes  shut,  chair-arms  gripped,  and  mouth 
open  for  nearly  half  a  minute  before  he  cuts  it  off 
abruptly  and  looks  at  the  startled  couple  at  the  table.) 

Lizzie.     Mercy,  Feyther,  whit  's  wrang  wi'  ye? 

David  (collectedly).  There  's  naething  wrang  wi'  me, 
Lizzie,  except  that  I  'm  wantin'  to  tell  wee  Alexander  a 
bit  story 

Lizzie  (firmly  but  very  kindly).    But  ye  're  no'  goin' 

to (She  breaks  off  in  alarm  as  her  father  opens  his 

mouth  preparatory  to  another  yell,  which,  however,  he 
postpones  to  speak  to  John.) 

David.  Ye  mind  whit  I  was  sayin'  about  the  dispensa- 
tion o'  Providence  to  help  weans  till  they  could  try  for 
theirselves,  John? 

John.    Aye. 

David.  Did  it  no'  occur  to  ye  then  that  there  ought  to 
be  some  sort  of  dispensation  to  look  after  the  auld  yins 
who  were  past  it? 

John.    No. 

*  Thrang  =  thick. 


Material  for  Interpretation  277 

David.  Aweel — it  did  na  occur  to  me  at  the  time — {and 
he  lets  off  another  prolonged  wail.) 

Lizzie  (going  to  him).  Feyther!  The  neighbours '11 
hear  ye ! ! 

David  {desisting  as  before).  I  ken  it  fine.  I  'm  no'  at 
the  back  of  the  hoose.     {Shorter  vmil.) 

Lizzie  {almost  in  tears).    They  '11  be  comin'  to  ask. 

David.    Let  them.    They  '11  no'  ask  me.  {Squall.) 

Lizzie.    Feyther — ^ye  're  no'  behaving  well.     John 

John.    Aye  ? 

Lizzie   {helplessly).     Naething Feyther,  stop  it! 

They  '11  think  ye  clean  daft. 

David  {ceasing  to  howl  and  speaking  with  gravity).  I 
ken  it  fine,  Lizzie;  an'  it  's  no'  easy  for  a  man  who  has 
been  respectit  an '  lookit  up  to  a '  his  life  to  be  thought  daft 
at  eighty-three,  but  the  most  important  thing  in  life  is  to 
get  yer  ain  wey.     {Resumes  vmiling.) 

Lizzie  {puzzled,  to  John).    Whit  's  that? 

John.     It  's  his  philosophy  what  he  was  talking  aboot. 

David  {firmly).  An'  I  'm  gaein'  to  tell  wee  Alexander 
yon  story  tho'  they  think  me  daft  for  it. 

Lizzie.  But  it  's  no'  for  his  ain'  guid,  Feyther.  I  've 
telt  ye  so,  but  ye  wudna  listen. 

David.  I  wudna  listen,  wumman!  It  was  you  wudna 
listen  to  me  when  I  axed  ye  whit  harm — {checking  him- 
self). No.  I  'm  no'  gaein'  to  hae  that  ower  again.  I  've 
gied  up  arguin'  wi  women.  I  'm.just  gaein'  tae  greet  loud 
an'  sair  till  wee  Alexander  's  brought  in  here  to  hae  his  bit 
story,  an'  if  the  neighbours {Loud  squall.) 

Lizzie  {aside  to  John).    He  's  fair  daft. 

John  {aghast).    Ye  'd  no'  send  him  to 

Lizzie   {reproachfully).    John 

(A  louder  squall  from  the  old  man.) 


278  Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 

Lizzie.     Oh,  Feyther (beseechingly). 

{A  still  louder  one.) 
Lizzie  (heating  her  hands  together  distractedly).    He  'D 

be Will He'll Och!!       (Resigned    and 

beaten.)     John,  go  and  bring  wee  Alexander  in  here. 
(John  is  off  like  a  shot.    The  opening  of  the  door  of  the 
other  room  can  be  told  by  the  burst  of  Alexander's 
voice.     The  old  man's  wails  have  stopped  the  second 
his  daughter  capitulated.    John  returns  with  Alex- 
ander and  bears  him   to  his  grandfather* s  waiting 
knee.    The  boy's  tears  and  howls  have  ceased  and  he 
is  smiling  triumphantly.    He  is,  of  course,  in  his  night- 
shirt  and  a  blanket  which  Grandpa  wraps  round  him, 
turning  t award's  the  fire.) 
Lizzie   (looking  on  with  many  nods  of  the  head  and 
smacks  of  the  lips.)     There  you  are!    That  's  the  kind  o' 
boy  he  is.     Greet  his  heart  oot  for  a  thing  an'  stop  the 
moment  he  gets  it. 

David.  Dae  ye  expect  him  to  gae  on  after  he  's  got  it? 
Ah,  but  Alexander,  yer  didna  get  it  yer  lane  this  time — it 
took  the  twa  o'  us.  An'  hard  work  it  was  for  the  Auld 
Yin!     Man   (playing  hoarse)    I   doot  I  Ve  enough  voice 

left  for  a (bursting  out  very  loud  and  making  the 

boy  laugh).    Aweel!    Whit  's  it  gaein'  to  be — eh? 

Harold  Chapin. 


PART  III 
BIBLIOGEAPHY 


SECTION  XIV 
GENERAL  REFERENCES 


BOOKS   OF  REFERENCE 

''Dialect  Notes,*'  American  Dialect  Society.     (Several  volumes.) 
"Modern  Language  Notes. '*  (Several  volumes.) 
"Seen  on  the 


Clayton  Hamilton,  Ch.  2 
"Browning  and  the  Dramatic  Monologue, *'  S.  S.  Curry,  Ch.  13. 
"Yankee  Fantasies,"  Percy  Mackaye,  Introduction. 
"Irish  Poems,"  Arthur  Stringer,   Introduction. 
"American  Speech,"  Calvin  Lewis,  Ch.  5. 
"American  Speech,"  H.  L.  Mencken. 


REFERENCE  ARTICLES 

"A  Study  in  the  Correction  of  Dialectic  English,"  D.  W.  Redmond, 
Eng.  Journal,  Oct.  1914. 

"Standard  of  American  Speech,"  F.  N.  Scott,  Eng.  Journal,  Jan. 
1917. 

"The  Stage  and  Better  Speech,"  W.  P.  Daggy,  Speech  Quarterly , 
Nov.  1921. 

"Vocal  Elements  that  Cause  Foreigners  Difficulty  in  the  Pronuncia- 
tion of  English, "  E.  M.  Michaels,  Thesis,  U.  of  Wis.,  1919. 


LIST  OF  BOOKS  OF  COLLECTED  READINGS   CONTAINING 

DIALECT 


Title  of  Book 
"Best  Things  from 
Best  Authors" 

"Choice  Readings" 

"Dialect  Ballads" 

"Handbook  of  Best 
Readings" 


Author  or  Compiler  Publisher 

C.  Shoemaker's  (com-   Penn  Pub.  Co.,  Phila- 
piler)   (28  vol) 


R.  L.  Cumnock 

C.  F.  Adams 
S.  H.  Clark 

281 


delphia 

A.  C.  McClurg,  Chi- 
cago 

Harper  Bros.,  N.  Y. 

Scribner,  N.  Y. 


282 


Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 


Title  of  Boole  Author  or  Compiler 

Humorous  Speaker "    P.  M.  Pearson 


Publisher 

Hinds  &  Eldredge, 
N.  Y. 

Century  Co.,  N.  Y. 


Marjorie  B.  Cooke 


'*  Modern    Literature     G.  E.  Johnson 
for     Oral    Interpre- 
tation ' ' 

**  Modern  Mono- 
logues ' ' 

*' One  Hundred  Choice    C.    Shoemaker    (com-    Penn  Pub.  Co.,  Phila- 
Selections"  piler)   (20  vol.)  delphia 

**Eeadings   from   Lit-    Halleck  &  Barbour         American  Book  Co., 
erature"  (compilers)  N.  Y. 


Charles     Seegel,     Chi- 
cago 


*  Headings  and  Eeci-    (58  Vol.) 
tations ' ' 


E.  S.  Werner,  N.  Y. 


** Studies  in  Dialect"   M.  M.  Babcock  (com-    University  of  Utah 


piler) 

MISCELLANEOUS 

"Selections  for  Oral     C.  M.  Feuss 
Reading ' ' 

'^  Standard  Selec-  Fulton  &  Trueblood 

tions ' ' 

*' Selected  Readings'*    Anna  Morgan 

*'Soper's  Dialect  H.  M.  Soper 

Readings ' ' 

**  Scrap  Book  Recita-   H.  M.  Soper  (com- 
tions"  piler)    (15  vol.) 


Press,  Salt  Lake 
City 


Macmillan  Co.,  N.  Y. 

Ginn  &  Co.,  Boston 

A.  C.  MeClurg,  Chi- 
cago 

T.  S.  Dennison  &  Co., 
Chicago 

T.  S.  Dennison  &  Co., 
Chicago 


Authors  whose  writings  afford  good  selections  either  all  Dialect, 
or  Dialect  in  part.  The  list  includes  colloquial  Dialects  found  in 
various  parts  of  the  United  States  and  child  Dialect. 


PBOSE 


James  Lane  Allen 

J.  J.  Bell 

Alice  Brown 

J.  M.  Barrie 

Ellis  Parker  Butler 

Peter  F.  Dunne 

Charles  Dickens 


Josephine  Dodge  Daseam 

Dorothy  Dix 

William  Allan  Droomgoold 

Norman  Duncan 

John  Fox,  Jr. 

Georce  Fitch 

Mart  E.  W.  Feeeman 


Bibliography 


S88 


Eugene  Field 
Montague  Glass 
Zona  Gale 
Sally  Pratt  Geeene 
O.  Henry 
Joel  C.  Harris 
Fanny  Hurst 
Jerome  K.  Jerome 
Owen  Johnson 


Charles  B.  Loomis 
Joseph  C.  Lincoln 
Ian  Maclaren 
Helen  K.  Martin 
F.  HoPKiNsoN  Smith 
Euth  McEnery  Stuaet 
Marie  Van  Slyke 
Henry  van  Dyke 
Owen  Wister 


poetry 


Wallace  Bruce  Amsbaby 
Burton  Braley 
Gillette  Burgess 
Edmond  Vance  Cooke 
HoLMAN  F.  Day 
Paul  Laurence  Dunbar 
William  H.  Drummond 
T.  A.  Daly 
Sam  Walter  Foss 
Egbert  Frost 
Eugene  Field 
James  W.  Foley 
Strickland  Gillilan 


Wallace  Irwin 
Burgess  Johnson 
James  F.  Kirk 
Joseph  C.  Lincoln 
W.  M.  Letts 
John  Masepield 
Percy  MacKaye 

J.   W.  ElLEY 

Irwin  Eussell 
Arthur  Stringer 
E.  L.  Stevenson 
Nixon  Waterman 


SECTION  XV 
DETAILED  LIST  OF  SELECTIONS 


286 


Dialects  for  Oral  Interpretation 


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s  (33  a  o 
pqoQQQ 


Bibliography 


28t 


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M 

M 

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Bibliography 


289 


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tt 

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Bibliography  291 

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292 


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S98 


X     X     X     X     X     XXX     X     X     XX     XX     X     X     X     X 


o  ^  o 
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894 


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895 


M« 


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Star-Song  . . . 
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Bibliography 


297 


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Bibliography 


299 


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ADDRESSES  OF  PUBLISHERS  IN  ABOVE  LIST 

<*100  Choice  Selections''  and  ''Shoemaker's  Best  Selections,"  Penn 

Pub.  Co.,  925  Filbert  St.,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 
*' Choice  Selections,"  Cumnock,  and  "Selected  Readings,"  Morgan, 

A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.,  Wabash  Ave.,  Chicago,  111. 
''Werner's  Readings,"  Edgar  S.  Werner  &  Co.,  43  E.  19th  St..  New 

York  City. 
Ginn  &  Co.,  Boston,  Mass. 
Chas.  Scribner's  Sons,  New  York  City. 
Century  Co.,  New  York  City. 
Hinds  &  Eldredge,  New  York  City. 
University  Press,  Salt  Lake  City,  Utah. 
American  Book  Co.,  New  York  City. 
Harper  Bros.,  New  York  City. 


INDEX 


SCOTCH 


Artist,  The  .      .      . 
Auld   Daddy   Darkness 

Banks  o'  Doon,  the 

Cuddle    Doon     . 
Coom,  Lassie,  Be  Good 


to 


Did   You    Ever?     . 

Highland    Mary 

Last  May  a  Braw  Wooer 

My  Ain  Wife     .      .      . 
My  Ain  Fireside    . 

*  Scotch  Wooing,  A  . 
She  Liked  Him  Eale  Weel 

Twa  Weelums,  The 

*  Twa  Courtin  's,  The 


Wife  He  Wants,  The  . 
*  Why     No     Scotchmen 

Heaven       .... 
When  Mither's  Gane  . 


Me 


Go 


to 


John  Stevenson  . 
Joseph    Ferguson 

Eobert   Burns 

Alexander   Anderson 
Charles  Mcllvane     . 


John  Stevenson 
Robert  Burns  . 
Robert    Burns 


Francis  Bennoch 
William  Hamilton 

Jerome  K.  Jerome 
Andrew  Wauless 

Violet   Jacobs 
David  Kennedy  . 

John  Stevenson  . 

Anonymous     . 
Anonymous     . 


ITALAlSr 


•  An     Italian 's    Views     on    the 
Labor  Question Joseph  Kerr 


Between  Two  Loves    .... 

' '  Descended      from      Christoph  * 

Colomb''        


T.   A.  Daly    .      .      . 
Fred  Emerson  Brooks 


Those  starred  are  in  prose. 


PAQl 

65 
63 

48 

60 
72 

56 

58 

64 

57 
54 

61 
45 

46 
51 

49 

55 
71 


82 
75 

84 


305 


806  Index 

TAon 

Da    'Mericana  Girl     ....  T.  A.  Daly   .....  77 

Da  Veera  Leetla  Baby     ...  T.  A.  Daly 80 

Da  Posta-Card  from  Napoli       .  T.  A.  Daly   .     .     i.,     .     .  81 

Mia    Carlotta T.  A.  Daly   .     .     ,..     .:     .  79 

So  Glad  for  Spreeng  ....  T.  A.  Daly 76 

NEGEO 

*Aunt  Amity's  Silver  Wedding  Euth  McEnery  Stuart  .     .  96 

*  Brer    Babbit    and    the    Little 

Girl Joel  Chandler  Harris     .     .  115 

Dancing  in  the  Flat  Creek 

Quarters John  A.  Macon  ....  113 

De  Circus  Turkey Ben  King 91 

De  Namin'  ob  de  Twins  .      .      .  Mary  Fairfax  Childs     .      .  100 

Dance,  The Irwin     Russell     ....  104 

*''Dey  Ain't  No  Ghosts''   .      .  Ellis  Parker  Butler  .      .     .  105 

De  Cushville  Hop   .      .     .     .     t.  Ben  King       .....    ;.,  112 

In  the  Morning Paul  Laurence  Dunbar  .      .89 

Nebuchadnezzar Irwin   Eussell      .      .      .      .  Ill 

01'  Joshway  and  de  Sun  .      .     .  Joel  Chandler  Harris     .      .  94 

Opportunity Paul  Laurence  Dunbar  .      .  118 

Theology  in  the  Quarters  .      .      .  John  A.  Macon  ....  99 

*  Tale  of  the  Possum,  The   .      .  Joel  Chandler  Harris     .      .  120 

*  Warm  Babies Keith  Preston     ....  93 

*  Why  the  Guineas  Stay  Awake  Joel  Chandler  Harris     .     .  102 

FEENCH  AND  FEENCH  CANADIAN 

Charmette     ........  William  H.  Drummond  .     .  132 

DieudonnS William  H.  Drummond  .      .  125 

*'De  Nice  Leetle  Canadienne"    .  William  H.  Drummond       .  131 

De  Cirque  at  01'  Ste.  Anne  .      .  Wallace  Bruce  Amsbary     .  137 

Family  Laramie,  The  .      ....  William  H.  Drummond       .  135 

Football  at  Chebanse    ....  Wallace  Bruce   Amsbary    .  127 

Little  Battose   .     .     ..-.     .     ,.,     >  William  H.  Drummond  .     .  126 


Index 


807 


*  Response  to  a  Toast  . 
Wreck  of  the  '*  Julie  Plante" 


Litchfield   Moseley    . 
William  H.  Drummond 


SCANDINAVIAN 

Abou  Swen  Anson William   F.  Kirk 

Ai  Tank  So J.   B.   Babcock    . 


Barefoot  Boy,   The     .     .     . 

Courtship  of  Miles  Standish  . 
George    Washington    .      .     . 


William  F.  Kirk 
William  F.  Kirk 
William  F.  Kirk 


Stealing  a  Eide William   F.    Kirk 

Sheridan's  Ride William  F.  Kirk 


PAOB 

134 

140 


150 
152 

147 

149 

146 

151 
145 


IRISH 


*  Borrowing  a  Pie 
Birds       .      .      .      . 


Charles  B.  Loomis 
Moira    O'Neill    . 


Choice,  The W.  M.  Letts  .      . 

Childer Arthur  Stringer  . 

Corrymeela Moira  O'Neill     . 

Cloidna  of  the  Isle       ....  Arthur  Stringer  . 

Cuttin'  Rushes Moira  O'Neill     . 

Circumstances  Alter  Cases     .      .  Anonymous     . 

Cut   Finger,   The Ellis  Parker  Butler 


Drownded     . 

*  Donegal  Fairy,  A 


W.  M.  Letts  .      . 
Letitia  McClintock 


Evening  Up,  The Arthur  Stringer  . 

Fair,    The Theodosia  Garrison 

I'll  Niver  Go  Home  Again  .      .  Arthur  Stringer 

*King    O 'Toole    and   His   Goose  Samuel  Lover      . 


*  New  Year 's  Resolutions 

*  Natural  Philosopher,  A  . 


F.  P.  Dunne 
T.  Maceabe 


*  On  Political  Parades     ...      F.  P.  Dunne  . 
Ould  Doctor  MaGinn  ....       Arthur  Stringer 

*  On  Chsprity <•      F.  P.  Dunne  . 


195 
171 

170 
170 
189 
188 
166 
193 
158 

165 
183 

164 

176 

179 

172 

190 
162 

167 
182 
180 


308  Index 


PAQB 
192 

199 
177 

184 

198 

157 


Pat  Magee Lena    Gyles    . 

Pride  of  Erin Arthur   Stringer 

Says   She W.  M.  Letts  .     . 

Tomorrow Alfred  Tennyson 

Wife  My  Brother  Got,  The  .  .  Padric  Gregory  . 
Wise  Man,  The  .  .  .  .  .  Arthur  Stringer  . 
Wishing  Bridge,  The  ....       Ruth  Comfort  Mitchell  .      .159 

MISCELLANEOUS 
Dog  Story,  A  (German)    .      .      .       John  T.  Brown  ....     215 

Foreign  Views  of  the  Statue 

(Medley)         Fred  E.  Brooks  ....     206 

*  Hans'  Hens  (German)    .      .      .       Charles    Battell    Loomis     .     203 
John  Chinaman's  Protest       .      .      Anonymous 213 

*  Mr.    Schmidt 's    Mistake    (Ger- 
man)     Charles  F.  Adams         .     .     208 

Rustic  Song,  A  (Medley)       .     .      Arthur  C.  Deane     ...     205 

Spinster's  Sweet  Arts,  The 

(Lincolnshire) Alfred   Tennyson      .  210 

ONE-ACT  PLAYS  IN  DIALECT 

Philosopher      of     Butterbiggens, 

The  (Scotch) Harold  Chapin    ....     265 

Rider  of  Dreams,  The  (Negro)        Ridgeley  Torrence    .      .      .     227 
Ramlet  o'  Puce,  The  (Irish)      .      A.  McClure  Warnock     .     .     219 

Spoiling  the  Broth  (Cockney)     .      Bertha  N.  Graham  ...     249 

Books  of  Reference 281 

Reference  Articles 281 

List  of  Books  of  Collected  Readings  Containing  Dialect  ...  281 

List  of  Authors  furnishing  Dialect  Material,  Prose  and  Poetry  .  282 

Bibliography  of  Four  Hundred  Selections 286 

(11) 


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